


Flame is the Game

by edibleflowers



Series: A Year in the Life [3]
Category: Pop Music RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-21
Updated: 2012-09-21
Packaged: 2017-11-14 18:19:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 59,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/518156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edibleflowers/pseuds/edibleflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when the irresistable force meets the immovable object? Justin and Abbey are about to learn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A sequel to Least Complicated, with a character introduced in that. The title is from Steely Dan's "Gaslighting Abbie". Originally posted on fanfiction.net in chapters, and on my old website, creativelymaladjusted.net. It has been slightly edited, but the story is unchanged.

As Abbey Eldridge boarded the plane for Orlando, she thought ruefully that she just wanted to kill someone.

She wasn't sure who, exactly. Her mother, maybe, for pushing her to submit her portfolio to Jive Records. Herself, maybe, for actually listening to her mother (an action she had made a lifelong policy of never doing). Maybe the junior executive who'd decided to assign her to this particular job should be her victim. Then again, she could just off herself, but that would definitely be contradictory to her career plans.

At twenty-two, a year out of college -- she'd skipped first grade, earning social ostracism until higher education leveled her playing field -- Abbey was a fast-rising talent in the field of music photography. After a gallery showing of some of her work with local New York bands that had also constituted her graduation project, she'd gone freelance for several months. She'd enjoyed the variety and diversity of freelancing, but it didn't always translate into regular pay; so, with pressing bills and rising rent costs at hand, she finally succumbed to her mother's strong pressure to find a job with a steady paycheck. Erica Eldridge, a socialite who always seemed to know just the person to talk to about anything, had dropped a few words in the right ears; and on the strength of her admittedly small, but professional, portfolio, she'd won a position in the promotional department at Jive Records.

Not that a steady income was a bad thing. The pay was good, and even if the work was bland and soulless, Abbey at least couldn't complain that she was working too hard. Unfortunately -- at least, to her thinking -- in only four months she'd earned enough of a good reputation to start being sent out on assignments; and just a few days ago she had been informed that she was being flown to Orlando, Florida, to take pictures of 'N Sync for promotion of their new record.

 _Typical cheesy boyband_ , she decided on the flight. Perusing the bio information, she snorted at most of it ( _sure_ , she thought, _they say they put themselves together, they can say whatever they want to sell records_ ). Her tastes in music were not to this type of thing as a rule; she avoided top 40 radio stations, since it all sounded pretty much the same to her. Her preferences ran to hard rock and heavy metal, and generally loud music ranging anywhere from the Rolling Stones to Metallica. Her older brother had cheerfully accepted the blame for inspiring her love for what she called "real music".

 _Carter's probably laughing himself silly right now_ , she mused to herself, grinning, _and I'm sure I'll never hear the end of it_.

After a while, she gave up on the bio stuff and turned her attention to the in-flight movie, the recent Meryl Streep true-life tale _Music of the Heart_. Though she'd avoided it at the theaters, expecting it to be insipid and overblown, she found herself enjoying it now. Streep was a good actress, after all, and so were Angela Bassett and Gloria Estefan. It was well-played; the sentiment didn't feel forced, the emotions were true, and Abbey found herself wiping away a few tears at the movie's end.

Finally, the credits rolled. Music -- harmonized voices, a soft ballad -- played over the names appearing on the screen, which Abbey watched, noting familiar names to go along with equally familiar faces. Then something caught her eye as the song credits appeared, and she realized, with a chuckle, that she'd been listening to 'N Sync all along without even knowing.

 _I guess they're not that bad_ , she thought, giving the song an objective ear. Harmonies could be faked, of course -- in the right producer's hands, even the worst piece of dreck could be transformed into gold -- but the song was pretty, not totally inane, and the voices were good. Gloria Estefan's unique, lovely alto blended in well, neither overshadowing nor being drowned out by the male voices.

 _Well, maybe this won't totally suck. But if I get any more guilt from Cat about this, someone's going down_.

It had been bad enough when her twelve-year-old sister had found out about her assignment. Abbey'd been sure her eardrums would burst when Catherine started jumping up and down and yelling.

"Oh my God, you HAVE to get me their signatures, Abbey, you have to! Oh my God, you have to take me with you!" Even now, days and miles removed from the incident, Abbey thought she could still hear Cat's screams in her ears.

 _God, please let this be the end of the assignment_ , Abbey prayed as the plane touched down in Orlando. _Please, please, please_.

Abbey decided, once she'd met her ride and claimed her baggage (making sure her cameras had survived the trip intact), to go to the hotel first and get freshened up. Though she'd been clean and fresh that morning, the plane ride had left her sweaty and uncomfortable as plane rides always did. Since she was probably going to meet the band today -- and definitely their manager -- she most certainly wanted to look presentable.

After settling on a casual, yet professional outfit of jeans, a blue blouse and her favorite brown leather jacket, Abbey called a cab, and when it arrived, gave them the address for the downtown building where Jive's Orlando offices were located; she'd been informed that she would meet the group's manager, Johnny Wright, there. She couldn't deny that she was nervous, but this was an assignment just like any other; there was no reason for her to be anything but cool, calm and in control. She would maintain her demeanor, everything would go smoothly, and that would be that.

In the building's main lobby, Abbey paused to orient herself, reading the directory to see where the offices were; then she took the nearest elevator, foot tapping as she watched the floors pass until she reached the sixth. Jive obviously rented the whole floor, as she emerged from the elevator to face a wide receptionist's desk. Approaching it, she smiled pleasantly to the man seated there and said, "I'm Abbey Eldridge, and I have an appointment with Mr. Wright?"

The receptionist checked his date book, then nodded. "He'll be right with you. Please, have a seat."

 _So this is Jive, Orlando_ , Abbey thought as she retreated to a chair placed at one end of a row. The lobby was more casual than the New York offices, which she somewhat expected since this was more of a branch, rather than the central division. Framed gold, platinum, and silver records littered the walls, intermingled with posters of the different groups signed to Jive's label. Involved in her analysis of the lobby's color scheme, Abbey didn't notice the tall black man until he was standing in front of her.

She looked up, blinking. "Oh! I'm sorry."

"Abbey? I'm Johnny Wright," he said with a pleasant smile.

Abbey gave a chuckle as she stood, taking his proffered hand. "I'm sorry. I -- it's nice to meet you, Mr. Wright."

"Oh, please call me Johnny. My office is right back this way."

As she followed Johnny down the hall, Abbey decided that she already liked this man. He had a strong professional air, but mixed with that was a friendly, casual attitude. Even though he wore a suit and tie, he looked like he'd be just at home in jeans and a polo shirt.

Johnny's office was sparsely decorated, but well-lit and made pleasant by a couple of potted ferns and some pictures scattered on the desk. He took the executive chair behind the desk, and Abbey sat by default in one of the two leather chairs opposite him.

"I've seen your work," he said, leaning forward to reach for a manila envelope. Drawing forth the contents, he laid a few of the full-page sized photographs out on the desk. Abbey recognized them: most were from recent assignments, but two were prints from her senior project, stark black and white shots of a heavily pierced punk singer screaming into a microphone. "Very nice."

"Thank you," she replied. "I'm certainly hoping that we'll be able to achieve the effect that you're looking for with the band, and believe me, I'm definitely ready to discuss ideas and such."

"Well, the main pictures for the liner have already been shot; what we want now is more along the same theme for press releases, the website and such. They said you work fast," he noted, with a hopeful eyebrow raised.

Abbey couldn't help but chuckle. "I do, yes, as long as my subjects are cooperative. And I'm as eager to get started as you are."

"Oh, and there's been a... slight change in the assignment," Johnny added. "Did Kelly at Jive tell you?"

"A change?" Abbey blinked, thinking back over her last-minute instructions from her boss. She remembered Kelly, her manager, saying something about some sort of change of plans, but that had all been in a rush last night.

"Ah, I see you weren't informed. There's been a change in plans because the tour photographer we'd scheduled has unfortunately been injured in a skiing accident. Jive wants you to be the photographer for the tour."

Abbey blinked again. For a moment, it seemed to be all she could do. After a moment, she sucked in a discreet lungful of air. _Now Cat's really going to kill me_ , she thought dazedly.

"That... sounds like a wonderful opportunity," she managed, surprised at how calm her voice sounded.

"Great. Would you like to meet the band?" Johnny's smile was wide in his face, as if he were pleased to have delivered the coup de grace.

"Why not? I've heard so much about them."

Chuckling, Johnny stood. "Let's head over to the compound. They're rehearsing for the tour," he added, seeing the evident confusion in her eyes. "We'll take a car. Cathy!" he called, louder, as he exited the office; Abbey scrambled for her purse and stood to follow him as he asked his assistant to order a car for them.

On the way over, he explained that while he used the Jive office for much of his business, he'd also developed a house, now known as the Compound, into a huge private location with many uses: rehearsal studio, small recording facility, and business offices, as well as recreational activities including jet-skis, arcade games, a jacuzzi and a one-lane bowling alley. "When you need to relax," he added, with a smile, and Abbey couldn't help but laugh. It wasn't a bad idea at all, she thought.

Abbey was duly impressed by the palatial estate; she followed humbly as Johnny led her inside. A receptionist informed him that the group was in the recording studio, going over the final mixes of the album. "This way," Johnny said, leading her down a long corridor; as they approached the studios, she heard music and then laughter from the open door, pouring towards them in a rolling wave. Abbey smiled as Johnny gestured to her to wait outside; when he stepped into the room, the laughter slowly died, trickling to a low burble.

She heard him talking to the others; apparently some introductions went around, and then he said her name. Summoning a smile, she stepped into the door.

Abbey recognized the group immediately; she'd seen recent pictures of them with the bios, so she knew which face belonged with what name. She didn't recognize the three girls in the room, but as they weren't her business, she was going to leave well enough alone there. Feeling their eyes all on her, that was awkward, uncomfortable; but Abbey swallowed the nerves. She'd been in this position before and she would again, without doubt. Best to get this part out of the way quickly.

"Hey," she said. "I'm Abbey Eldridge. We'll be setting up a photo shoot in a couple of days, so I'll get to know you then, all right?"

They all nodded agreeably, and she let her gaze travel from each of them to the next, categorizing each with a name. JC was sitting next to a cute, petite redhead; Lance looked as charming as his pictures implied; then the other two girls, a brunette and a tall blonde; Chris, with a laptop, on the sofa; Justin, next to him, seemed a bit damp; and finally Joey, who was eyeing her right back. _What a shock_ , she thought, her mind flickering back to the way he'd been portrayed in the press releases.

Nodding again, she smiled, offered a small wave, and stepped out of the studio. Behind her, she heard Johnny tell them something about getting back to work, and then they headed out, to his office in the building, to make further plans.

* * *

"...Yes, Mom. I'm going to be the tour photographer. No, that means I have to go on tour with them. Take pictures at the concerts and appearances and such. They're coordinating some of it with the website, so I'm basically going to be shooting everything."

Shouldering the phone, Abbey bent down to pick up a shirt she'd discarded earlier. As she meticulously folded, she suppressed a sigh at her mother's tone of voice. Though she'd dreamt of going into photography ever since childhood, her mother had never really approved of it, and even now Abbey continued to suffer the disparagement of her chosen career.

"Yes, you might as well tell Cat. Tell her I'll try to get their autographs, too, although things are a bit busy right now. No, I don't know how long I'll be down here, the schedule's really hectic, but I'll be back at least once before the tour starts. May. I don't know when exactly. Well, if I need to go shopping, that's what the gold card is for, right?"

Finally she was able to dismiss her mother from the phone, and as she flopped back onto the bed of her small suite -- she had been booked into an extended-stay room -- she wondered if Cat had begun screaming yet.

* * *

Justin pounded through the routine, trying to focus on the choreography and nothing else. Though he usually didn't have a problem with the routines -- normally he picked stuff up quickly, even the intricate parts -- today he couldn't seem to concentrate.

"Stop," Wade yelled. Justin realized he'd screwed up another move. With a groan, he let his body go boneless on the floor.

"Come on, Timberlake, rise and shine." Chris gave his shoulder a shove with the toe of one sneaker.

"Justin's out right now, please leave a message at the sound of the tone."

Justin ignored JC's good-natured teasing. Naturally JC was in a good mood. JC had a cute redhead to fawn over. He wondered briefly if he was just jealous that the others had met girls on a trip to DisneyWorld which he'd specifically passed up, and if that was leading into his interest in Abbey. After a moment, he dismissed that possibility with a mental sigh. Chris was right; he had a crush on Abbey, after only having seen her once. But hell, who could blame him? She was gorgeous.

He'd seen a lot of pretty girls in the last five years, too. Most of them his age, younger, some that were lovely but much too old for him (he considered old to be anything above twenty-five). But Abbey was young, he guessed twenty-one or so; she had a pretty enough face, sleek blonde-and-brown hair gleamed even while pulled back in a partial twist, and her smile was to die for.

"Ah, I thought I'd find you here."

Her voice -- for a moment he thought it was his imagination working overtime; then he realized that she was supposed to be here today. Hastily he jumped to his feet, brushing himself off and cursing mentally that this was the second time now he'd been forced to meet her in a less-than-groomed state.

"All right, why don't you guys take a break," Wade, the choreographer, said with a sigh. "Twenty minutes."

They dragged themselves over to the leather couches at the side of the room, Chris crawling across the floor as if swimming for dear life. Abbey suppressed a smile as she noticed this. Taking a perch on one of the couch arms, she set her camera case down. She'd figured it would probably always be good to have a camera handy around these guys, just in case.

"Well, since we don't have long, I thought it'd be good to arrange a time for a session with you folks," she began without preamble. "Also, if you have any specific ideas of how you want the photos to look, let me know now so I can get a place arranged."

"I want to wear a Mickey Mouse suit," Chris offered.

"I don't know if you know anything about us," Lance promptly said, all but rolling his eyes, "but it's probably a good idea to ignore everything that comes out of Chris's mouth."

"I'll keep that in mind," Abbey said drily.

"But, Mickey Mouse!"

"I had an idea," Justin said.

"No one wants to hear your ideas." Joey grinned, looking positively evil. "No one likes you, Justin, just get used to it."

"All right, someone kill him for me."

"Aww, can't give me the big beat down yourself?"

"I have people to do that for me."

Lance coughed loudly, interrupting the pair. "Now, for the NON-testosterone-impaired in the room..."

Abbey suppressed a smile. "So, when's the soonest we can get together?"

"We have plans tonight, but maybe Monday," JC suggested. His eyes looked bleak for the barest moment, but the emotion was gone so quickly that Abbey immediately doubted she'd seen it in the first place.

"Monday's good. I've seen the weather reports, and it should be clear if you want to do some outside shooting." Abbey was banking on the advice Johnny had given her: that the guys were very opinionated about how they would want their shots to appear. In that, it seemed, she was not mistaken; in no time, all five of them were chiming in with suggestions, including the ever popular 'personality shots' and Chris's idea that she shoot them messing up on skis (inspired, no doubt, by their recent "Snowed In" appearance).

Abbey jotted down notes as quickly as she could until the choreographer called them out to the floor again. By then they were buzzing with energy again, and Joey danced out to the center of the floor, light on his toes, with fists clenched loosely before him like a boxer. "I'm da greatest!" he proclaimed; this title lasted for about one minute, until Chris swung a wide, fake uppercut and gently tapped Joey's chin. Joey sprawled on the floor as if the 'punch' had laid him out.

On an impulse, Abbey grabbed her camera case and began assembling her trusted Nikon. "Do you guys mind if I take some pictures now?"

"You want to take pictures of us all sweaty and disgusting and stuff?" Justin looked rather green at the thought.

"It'll get you used to me being back here. After a while you'll forget I'm even taking pictures." With practiced ease, she popped open a roll of film, deftly inserting it into the camera, and checked the light level in the room with a meter.

"Sure," JC shrugged.

She stayed for about half an hour more, slipping around the edges of the room to capture quick, unguarded shots. There was silliness here and there, but for the most part the guys had definitely buckled down to work, and the concentration showed in their serious, set faces. Abbey felt reasonably pleased with the roll of pictures; she was even beginning to think now that this might not be the most heinous of jobs after all.

* * *

"You like her, huh?"

"Shut up, Chris."

"You're spending too much time in front of the mirror, fro boy. Justin's got a crush! Justin's got a crush!" Chris danced around the room, singsonging the words to everyone in earshot.

"Geez, Chris, give it a rest!" Lance picked up the first object that came to hand -- a small box of tacks, left over from some workmen who had been redecorating the room prior to its temporary transformation into a makeup area -- and held it up in a threatening manner.

Chris went into a sulk, grumbling and folding his arms. "Can't help it if you're not a morning person."

"Bite me."

"Ooh, can I?"

" _Chris_." This from JC, who may not quite have been fed up yet, but was definitely getting close. At his terse utterance, Chris settled down, returning his attention to the laptop computer and the business he'd been dealing with before being distracted by Justin's careful ministrations to his hair.

Fortunately for all concerned, Abbey arrived only a couple of minutes later. She apologized for her lateness, as she'd been unexpectedly stuck in traffic; they reassured her that it was only to be expected, and she began setting up for the shoot.

Aware of Johnny Wright's presence, serious but quiet in the background, she felt a twinge of nerves which she quickly suppressed. "So who wants to go first?" she asked, glancing at the others. Chris was done with the laptop and had begun playing with a small pug dog, tossing a rubber ball for the little dog to catch. Joey just grinned and pointed at Justin.

"I will," the blond said, standing up and giving Joey a grimace. He looked like he wanted to run a hand through his hair; Abbey bit her lip and hoped he wouldn't, since the tight curls would probably be horribly disarrayed by such an action. Fortunately, he refrained, and the first photo session got underway.

Abbey was impressed, if reluctantly, with the professionalism each of them displayed throughout the morning. Though it was early, they weren't overly grumpy; aside from one incident when Busta, Chris's dog, ran through the shot with his owner in hot pursuit, there were no disturbances. The only thing that bothered her was the way Justin kept hanging around her.

Even after his shots were done, Abbey noticed him looking at her; and while she admitted that he wasn't unpleasant to the eye, it was something of a distraction. During a break after Joey's shots, while she put new film into her cameras, she felt eyes on her and looked up to see Justin standing nearby.

"Yeah?" she asked, returning her attention to her bag to make sure she had things sorted correctly.

"I was just wondering if I could get you a pop or something." He looked less confident than she'd been led to believe he was, and she couldn't help but smile to herself.

"Sure, that'd be nice." She didn't notice Chris's snickering, which was probably for the best.

"So what do you do for fun? We're going out tonight if you want to come along." That was all delivered in a rush as Abbey packed up her cases. She suppressed a chuckle as Justin once again tried to get some conversation out of her.

"That's all right, Justin. But if you really want to do something for me, would you sign a picture? My kid sister is threatening my life if I don't go back to New York without at least your autographs."

"Oh, sure." Justin accepted the pen she fished out of a pocket, scribbling his autograph on one of the test shots without a second thought. "But really, I mean it, you're missing a really good time."

"Justin." She accepted the picture and pen, set them on top of her bags, and reached out to hold one of his shoulders firmly. "This is my job, okay? I'm not here to socialize. I appreciate the offer, but you're barking up the wrong tree." _And anyway, why would you want me to go out with you when you've got a million cute girls lusting after you_?

The singer's face fell, and Abbey winced. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound harsh--"

"Nah, it's a'ight." She saw the wall come up just like that, a mask hiding the feelings crushed by her casual rejection. "It's cool."

"Well, I'll see you later." Abbey went back to tucking lenses and rolls of spent film into their cases, feeling horrible now. Once she was finished, she approached the others -- Lance chatting on a cellphone, Chris bringing Busta back from a walk outside, Joey and JC chasing each other on scooters -- to get their autographs as well.

"Sure, no problem," JC said when Abbey asked for his signature. "Who's it for?"

"My little sister, Catherine. Cat for short. She's twelve, and you guys are her whole world." Abbey couldn't keep from smiling at the thought of Cat's inevitable reaction to this. "She'd skin me alive if I didn't bring something back."

"Back?" Joey asked, looking a bit puzzled.

"Yeah, I'm flying up tomorrow with you lot. Apparently I'm supposed to tag around with you until the tour starts, only," she sighed softly, transferring the picture from JC to Joey, "no one bothered to let me in on that until after I got here."

Chris smirked. "Gotta love those last-minute decisions."

Abbey smiled, reaching over to caress Busta's ears. "Yeah, well. I'll live. I guess it works out anyway, since I can get packed for the tour and, you know, see my family and all that."

"Oh, you're from New York?" Joey perked up a little as he handed the picture and pen over to Chris, who had to juggle Busta to sign. Abbey nodded.

"Manhattan born and raised, I'm afraid. My mom's something of... well." She shook her head, attempting to contain a smile. "'Snob' is the word she likes least, so it's the one I use most. But, oh, hey -- if you guys could get Cat in to one of the promo things you're doing up there, I'd have a personal slave for the next ten years."

Joey laughed. "No problem."

Finally, she got Lance's signature -- he talking on the phone all the while, though by the tone she wondered if it was a business call or something more personal -- and tucked the picture into her satchel. "Thanks, guys. See you at the airport tomorrow morning?"

Receiving groans at the anticipated early morning, she chuckled, picked up her cases, and headed out. Something told her that this stint in New York would be very interesting.

* * *

As expected, the flight next morning was indeed an early one. Abbey was grateful that she didn't have a lot to carry; her cameras went along, but she didn't have to take clothes this time. She'd been issued another security pass, as well as a ticket, the day before, and had instructions on where to go at the airport; apparently a private plane had been chartered, a common practice for flights like these, but a novel first for Abbey. She was looking forward to the flight.

At the entrance to a VIP lounge, Abbey showed her pass and was allowed to enter, discovering that she was one of the first to arrive. A few members of the entourage had arrived ahead of her; they were either involved in their PDAs or laptops, so Abbey settled down with her book to wait for boarding.

Not too long after, the guys began straggling in. Chris was alone, while Joey's family had come to see him off; Justin was in the company of a curly-headed woman who must be his mother, but JC and Lance, too, had come sans relatives -- unless the guy with Lance was a brother. No, she decided a moment later; there was no resemblance, so he must be a personal assistant.

Chris made his way straight over and plopped down in the seat on her left, yawning. "Morning."

"Awake yet?" she asked with a smile.

"Nope, an' I'm sleeping all the way to Laguardia. Wake me when we get there?"

"Sure." She glanced around to see if he had brought his pug, but there weren't any pet carriers in evidence. "Is Busta coming?"

"Oh, yeah. I had to check him in with the luggage."

"Poor little guy," Abbey said sympathetically.

Chris gave a dramatic sniff, emphasizing his distraught state over having to say farewell to Busta, before arranging his coat over himself. An early-morning chill pervaded the terminal, and Abbey eyed Chris's warm coat enviously, knowing well that Manhattan would be even colder. Pulling her own thin jacket a little tighter around her, she glancing around at the others.

Lance stood about ten feet away, two large bags at his feet. He was consulting a Palm Pilot, while the man next to him, presumably the assistant, spoke into a cellphone in quiet tones. Justin sat in a nearby chair, talking softly with his mother; next to them, Joey and his parents took up three seats. The older couple bore such a strong resemblance to Joey that Abbey had no doubt she was seeing exactly what the younger man would look like in twenty years.

JC had also taken a seat, and he was curled up in it, head bent over a notebook in his lap. Abbey looked over at Chris, ready to ask if he knew what the time was, but she saw that Chris's eyes were closed now. He'd snuggled up on the seat in rather an adorable way, managing somehow to make the hard metal and plastic look comfortable. She smiled softly at him before returning to her book.

"Hey."

Somehow, Abbey wasn't surprised, when she raised her eyes again, to see that Justin now occupied the seat to her right. She gave him a quick, terse smile, replied, "Morning," and went back to her reading.

"What'cha reading?"

She suppressed a sigh. "P.J. O'Rourke. Political humor, social commentary, more or less," she added when Justin's normally animated face went briefly blank.

"Oh. Any good?"

Abbey resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Yep, that's why I'm reading it," she said wryly. Looking back at her page, she attempted to relocate her place.

Suddenly, the book was plucked out of her hands. Abbey glared at Justin, who was holding it in his lap, her place marked with one finger. "You have lots of time to read on the plane. Come on, Abbey, I just want to talk to you."

His tone was wheedling; Abbey felt her resistance begin to crumble. "Fine," she sighed, folding her arms. "What do you want to talk about?"

"How old are you?"

"What is this, 20 Questions?" she asked in return, surprised at his question.

"Animal, mineral, or vegetable?" Chris mumbled, and Abbey chuckled.

"Go back to sleep, Chris."

"Okay." His tone was amiable, amenable.

"Seriously." Justin leaned one arm on the back of the chair, letting the book hang from his hand. "You know all kinds of stuff about us, and we don't know anything about you." He fought to squash the jealousy that flared at her affectionate smile and chuckle for Chris; mostly, he succeeded.

"Well, the only reason I know anything about you is because I read the press releases Jive gave me," Abbey replied, keeping her voice low in deference to Chris. "Trust me, there's nothing about me that you need to know."

"Sure there is." Justin's eyes gleamed, his tone becoming persuasive. "Look, we're going to be spending a lot of time together on tour, right? And there has to be trust between the photographer and the subjects, right?"

"Well--" Abbey began, but got no further.

"So, if we're gonna trust you, it'll help a lot if we know something about you. Like, if we hang out and stuff, have a better working relationship, you know what I'm sayin'?"

 _Yeah, it's a load of horseshit_. Still, she had to admit that he could be convincing when he wanted. "Fine," she said, tone edging into curtness. "I'm twenty-two, born and raised in New York, I take pictures for a living, I'm five foot six and my weight isn't up for disclosure. My favorite band is Led Zeppelin and my favorite color is hunter green. Now can I have my book back?"

"Sure." His tone was deceptively innocent. Abbey reached for the novel, almost unsurprised when he pulled it out of her grasp at the last moment.

"Very funny. Give."

"Come and get it." Justin got up, taking several steps away from their seats.

Abbey crossed her arms, letting out an audible sigh this time. If there was one thing she hated, it was behavior like this, and she refused to be goaded. Muffled laughter sounded next to her; she glanced over to see Chris's eyes gleaming above the collar of his coat. Obviously, his attempts at napping had failed.

"Think anyone would mind if I killed him?" she murmured.

Chris buried his face in his coat. "Don't do it in front of me, I can't stand blood."

When Justin saw that Abbey wasn't going to chase him, he brought the book back, slumping into the seat with a disgusted look on his face.

"Thank you, Justin," Abbey said sweetly.

"You're no fun," he muttered.

"See, now you've learned something else about me."

"That's right, he can be taught!" Fortunately, before Justin could start beating Chris up for that remark, a tall gentleman wearing a security badge appeared, calling that it was time to board the plane. "Sit anywhere you want," Chris told her as he got up, smiling. "You ever been on a private flight before?"

"No," she admitted, with a smile. "Is there anywhere I can sit that I can be completely away from him?" She nodded towards Justin, who was already heading for the gate to the plane.

Chris laughed. "He's not so bad when you get to know him, really."

"Right." She chuckled as she picked up her bag and headed towards the door.

Though the flight was long, it was not without its moments. The guys gradually became more animated as time passed, breakfast was served, and coffee revived flagging spirits that had awoken too early in the day -- especially Abbey's, as she was getting tired just at the thought that she'd soon be encountering her sister. There was much teasing of Lance, who apparently wasn't that thrilled with flying -- though, with all the traveling 'N Sync had done, he'd managed to get used to it.

Abbey counted her blessings when they arrived in New York, still in one piece, still in relatively good humor. She glanced at the itinerary one last time before tucking it into her satchel: they were going to be loaded into limos from the airport, then to be taken to the hotel where the band and crew would be staying for the next couple of weeks. Abbey, on the other hand, would be staying at her own apartment -- and glad she was of it, since even a temporary stay with her mother would no doubt drive her insane. She was looking forward to hanging out with her friends for at least one night, too.

Once the caravan -- limos, passenger vans, and so forth -- had arrived at the hotel where everyone was booked, Abbey hopped out, waved to the crew with whom she'd been riding, and headed for the cab stand. She knew that she'd be meeting up with the guys again tomorrow, but today was hers, and she intended to enjoy it.

Directing the cab driver to her mother's apartment building, she leaned back in the seat, smiling to herself. It was good to be home, and she intended to savor it for as long as she could, since she wouldn't be here again until who knew when.

At the apartment building, she greeted the doorman warmly before heading up to her mom's floor. On the way, she checked her watch: it was just about 1:00, which meant that Cat wouldn't be home for another couple of hours. Reflexively, she checked her satchel to make sure the picture was still there. It was; she sighed in relief, knowing that she wouldn't have forgiven herself if she'd forgotten it.

"Mom? I'm home," she called as she unlocked the door and came into the apartment in which she'd grown up.

"Oh, in here, sweetheart." Abbey wasn't very surprised to find her mother in the kitchen, on the phone; a television mounted under one of the cabinets flashed soundless pictures as her mother dripped sweetness to the person on the other end of the line. Sliding into a seat at the breakfast nook, opposite Erica, Abbey poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot on the table and added cream and sugar. She stirred slowly, listening to her mother wind up the conversation.

"--yes, I know, but do be a dear and see if you can arrange it anyway. Wonderful. Now I must go, my daughter just flew in from Florida and I haven't seen her in at least a week. Yes. I will. Goodbye now." With a dramatic sigh, Erica hung up the phone.

"Well! I'll get that event planned come hell or high water. David Gold says hello, by the way. How was your flight, dear?"

"It was all right." Abbey sipped at her coffee, studying her mother for a moment. Erica Eldridge was a woman of contrasts, to be sure. To look at her now, her petite form curled up in the breakfast nook, clad in a less-than-fashionable track suit, one would never think that she might be one of New York society's movers and shakers. But Abbey knew that a transformation could take place in twenty minutes -- dress, makeup, chestnut-brown hair (just beginning to show the slightest hints of silver) styled just so -- that would allow a glamorous society maven to emerge, like a butterfly from a chrysalis.

Abbey had realized, not long ago, that much of her teenage rebellion had stemmed from not wanting to be like her mother; she'd seen Erica as frivolous and flighty, fluttering from one activity to the next without centering on any. But in the past year, she'd actually begun to admire her mother. Erica did a lot of charity work -- not just the parties and such, but in the trenches, too, and Abbey had only just begun to learn how much work that actually entailed.

"Abbey? Abbey, dear, are you listening to me?"

Abbey blinked, realizing that her mother had repeated her name a couple of times. "Oh, sorry, Mom. Just thinking."

"So tell me about your job. Who's this band you're assigned to, now?"

The time passed quickly, Abbey was surprised to discover. Conversation about her job flowed naturally; she shared some anecdotes about the guys' antics, surprising herself with the memory of how much she'd enjoyed herself around them. She noticed her mother giving her an odd look when she described her exasperation with Justin; but before Erica could say anything, the door to the kitchen swung open and Cat pelted in.

Flushed and breathless, she ran up to Abbey and hugged her. Amused by this display of sisterly affection, Abbey put her arms around Cat. "Well, hey there, squirt."

"Abbey! I missed you. Did you know I'm the most popular girl at school, I mean in my grade? And all my friends want to meet you. Did you bring me anything?"

Abbey chuckled. "Slow down, take a breath. I've only been gone a few days, it wasn't forever. So you're popular, huh? Why would that be?"

The look of exasperation on Cat's face made Abbey fight giggles. "Well, duh! My sister's going on tour with 'N Sync, hello!" Cat's face was still flushed, probably from the cold outside as well as her race into the apartment, and her pale blonde hair, braided back in a French braid, had come partially loose.

"Well, it's good to know you're not lording it over everyone. Oh, that reminds me." Abbey made a show of digging in her bag, pretending to rummage through it. "That reminds me... let me see if I remembered this old thing."

"Abbey--!" Cat bounced on her toes, her impatience growing by the second.

"Oh, here it is." With a flourish, Abbey brought out the signed picture and presented it to Cat. The twelve-year-old's mouth worked soundlessly for a moment before, with a little shriek, she grabbed the picture.

"Oh my GOD! Abbey, this is so awesome! Where'd you get this picture? They are so hot!"

"I took it yesterday." Abbey didn't regret her smug tone, not when it brought such a look of astonishment to Cat's blue eyes.

"Oh my God, I have to go call Christine and Heather right now! Thank you, Abbey!" Cat turned to go, but Abbey put a hand on her sister's arm to stop her.

"There's more, you know."

"There's more?"

Abbey had to admit that she was loving this part. It was worth it to see the happiness in her sister's face. "Well, unless you don't want to go watch the MTV Live special on the 18th in person and get to meet the guys."

Cat went utterly soundless for a moment, her eyes registering shock, wonder, and excitement all at once. Then, with a squeal of joy, she flung herself into her sister's arms, gasped something that sounded like " _OhmygodthankyouIdon'tbelieveit_!" and ran from the room, tears in her eyes.

Abbey grinned. "Well, my work here is done."

"I don't think I've ever seen her so happy," Erica commented, blinking bemusedly after her younger daughter. "Is it true, about the MTV thing?"

Abbey nodded. "I confirmed it on the flight. It's supposed to be for, I think, people from the fan club only -- there was a contest or something, I'm fuzzy on the details -- but they'll basically let her watch from the sidelines with me."

"Well, good. I'm glad you thought of her, and I'm glad you'll be there to keep an eye on her."

They talked for a little while longer before Abbey excused herself. The travel was catching up to her, and she wanted to go back to her apartment and crash in her own bed for a couple of hours. She took the subway over to her place -- not quite as upscale as her mom's, by any means, but she liked it. After checking her mail ( _better make sure to stop at the post office and get a hold on that_ , she thought absently in the elevator), she headed up to her third-floor apartment and unlocked the door.

Everything looked the same as when she'd left it, to her relief. The answering machine's light was blinking; she played the messages back as she sorted through her mail ( _bill, bill, junk, bank statement, bill, ooh, I'm pre-approved for a credit card_...). The first message was from Kelly, her manager, updating her on the assignment. _Bit late for that_ , she grumbled to herself, kicking off her shoes.

The other messages rattled on, unimportant: someone with a pleasant-sounding voice whose name she didn't recognize telling her that she needed to call Tonya at the number given, no explanation; one of her college friends letting her know that everyone was getting together on Saturday night. The timestamp then informed her that the message had been recorded on the previous Friday, which didn't do Abbey much good; she'd been in Florida by then.

 _And they wonder why I don't hang out with them anymore_. Abbey groaned and fell back onto her bed, pulling her down comforter over her. _I'll sleep for two hours, and then I think dinner_... Before she could complete the thought, she was asleep.

Exactly two hours later, Abbey woke with a loud gasp.

In the darkness, the apartment was quiet and still. Abbey heard the sound of her own breathing -- shallow panting, rattling in her dry throat -- echoing, ringing in her ears. The hand at her heart filled with a wild pulse, as if she'd just run a marathon. _What the hell was that_?

Swinging her legs out from under the covers, she rested her heavy head in her hands, attempting to calm down. It must have been the dream she was having -- although 'nightmare' was really a better word for it.

The imagery was still there, fresh in her mind, real enough that she wondered, still, if she'd been dreaming or not. In the dream, she'd been behind the wheel of a car, but no matter what she'd done, it wouldn't respond. She knew the car: it was her father's, the one in which she'd been taught to drive. Yet though she wrestled with the wheel, fought with the stick shift, nothing affected the car's forward motion.

It was speeding, faster and faster; the top was down, and the wind whipped her hair around her face so that she couldn't see anything. She could tell that she was driving down an unmarked country road, trees surrounding her with night's blanket of stars overhead. The car followed the road's sharp turns, but she couldn't do anything other than sit back and enjoy the ride -- and as fast as it was going, enjoying this ride was a flat-out impossiblity.

The car had continued to accelerate, the trees whipping by faster and faster on either side until they blurred to her vision. Abbey clutched the wheel, held on for dear life, fighting and failing to control it -- and then the headlights caught on a figure standing up ahead in the middle of the road; but the person's features were washed out by the bright lights and she couldn't see who it was.

She had tried to scream at the person, to try and get them out of the way, but no sound emerged from her throat though she shouted herself hoarse. Plunging a foot on the brakes had no effect, and even though she knew it was futile, she pulled on the wheel, desperately trying to twist it to get the car off the road--

Seconds before the inevitable impact, the person had turned to look at her. The eyes, bright blue even in the headlights, held a look of simple betrayal. That moment was the one in which she'd woken, and even now she could feel the power of that gaze, how it had drilled into her.

"Justin," Abbey murmured into the darkness of her apartment, knowing that he had been the person into whom the car had almost crashed -- would have, if she hadn't woken up.

 _Okay, this... is just a bit too freaky_.

* * *

Abbey arrived at the MTV studios the next afternoon out of breath, flushed from her run through three busy city blocks. She didn't get in right away, though; for some reason, her name wasn't on the crew list (although her sister's was, which under other circumstances she might have found amusing). After some harried arguing with the receptionist ("yes, I know everyone in the world wants in, trust me--"), she pulled out her cell phone and called Johnny.

Once she'd explained the situation to him, he chuckled, telling her that he'd send someone down to get her shortly. Abbey stood by the desk, catching her breath, to await her escort. She didn't have to wait long, and when she saw the person coming through the inner doors, she shook her head with a rueful smile.

"Justin, shouldn't you be warming up or something?" she asked.

Justin shrugged. "In a few. Come on. Hey, Mikey," he said to the receptionist. "Give her a badge, would you? She's coo'."

As Justin escorted her inside, Abbey couldn't resist giving "Mikey" a sweet smile and a little wave. Then she followed Justin down the hall.

"No bodyguard?" she asked, glancing around interestedly at the various wall decorations. She'd never been inside MTV before, and it was turning out to be as unusual as she'd expected.

Justin shrugged. "Not in here, we don't need them." When they reached the bank of elevators, he stabbed the 'up' button with one thumb, one foot tapping to music drifting from a nearby open door.

Abbey watched him for a moment, trying to read his body language. The way he was rocked back on his heels, not looking at her, his hands stuffed in his pockets, it all spoke of something wrong. "Justin... you're not mad at me, are you?"

He looked up at her. "Me? Nah. Why would I be mad at you?"

"I thought--" The elevator bell rang, and when he looked to see which one had arrived, she thought, _Well, that's it for his attention_. "Never mind. I guess it doesn't matter."

"No, what?" He walked backwards to the elevator, holding it open for her. Now he looked genuinely interested, causing Abbey to doubt the previous moment's observation.

"Well, because of my turning you down before." She looked him in the eyes as she spoke, and inadvertantly, that image from her nightmare came back into her mind ( _at the last moment he turned, the look in his blue eyes one of utter betrayal_ \--).

Justin only shrugged. "I'm over it. Although--" The elevator doors opened, and they stepped out onto the third floor before he continued. "I don't know why it's such a big deal. It's not like it would have been a date or anything."

Abbey rolled her eyes. Obviously this was still heavy on his mind. Glancing around, she saw an empty office nearby. "Come here." She took his arm to lead him into the room, wanting to have this conversation in private. The last thing they needed was MTV interns spreading rumors about her and Justin.

"Okay." She leaned back on the bare desk, propping herself with her hands; he was standing defensively, arms folded. "I'm just going to explain this once, so please listen to me. This is my job, okay? I'm here to take pictures, and that's it. I don't hang out with the band. I do my job, I get to travel a little, and that's it."

"But--"

"No, I'm not done yet." His face was growing stormy, but she had to finish. "How many other members of the crew do you hang out with in your down time?"

Justin obviously hadn't anticipated the question, because a moment or two passed before he began to come up with a response. "Well, it depends on what's going on."

"Mm." Abbey nodded. "Well, for the duration of this tour, I'm just one of the crew. That's all there is, and I don't ask for more, so please don't give me any special treatment. Really, I don't want any."

"Geez!" Justin could feel something building up in him, getting ready to explode. "It's not like I like you or anything! I just thought it would be cool to hang out and have a good time! What's wrong with that?"

"Just hang out?" Abbey arched an eyebrow, instinctively responding to his heated tone of voice. "You didn't need to know how old I was just so we could hang out."

"So what if I wanted to know somethin' about you?" he fired back. He knew he was as much as admitting his interest in her, but it was probably already too late, and by now he didn't care. "You act like it'd be the worst thing in the world to talk with me."

Abbey's eyes narrowed. "You don't get it, do you? I'm not interested in having a relationship right now. That's not just about you, Justin, it goes for everyone. I'm sorry to be blunt, but I don't want you to take it personally. And anyway, think about it. Even if you and I do just hang out on this tour, all you need is more false rumors about your romantic relationships."

His face darkened further, and Abbey felt that squeeze of guilt again -- but the words were out, now, and she couldn't retract them.

"Justin, I--"

"No, just don't," he cut her off. "You're not even sorry, so don't lie and tell me you are."

Her eyes narrowed at that. "And explain to me exactly how you magically know what I'm feeling?"

At that moment, Chris poked his head into the office. "There you are! Come on, we have to soundcheck. You guys okay?" he added, puzzled, as Justin stomped out of the room.

Abbey shrugged. "Yeah, fine." Chris, she thought, didn't need to know about this little confrontation; it was between her and Justin.

Abbey found Johnny Wright in a small area near the _Total Request Live_ site, where the performance would be held. Sliding into a seat near him, she waited until he had finished the call he was involved with, then began to profusely apologize for her lateness.

"It's okay, Abbey, really," he assured her. "I'm just sorry that your name wasn't on the list. I'm still not sure how that happened. What came up?" he asked, his eyes on a schedule book that, from what Abbey could see, was full of scribbled words, dates, and all such things relating to the daily management of the group.

She sat back in the folding chair, sighing. "What didn't? I stopped in at my office at Jive... the one I haven't seen the inside of in something like a month now, and Kelly ambushed me." She paused there, trying to think how best to sum up the morning.

It hadn't been pleasant, that was for sure. Kelly Nivers, her manager, was a tall, suave woman with a sweet enough demeanor; unfortunately, that demeanor hid a driven attitude the like of which Abbey had never met. Kelly was all smiles and apologies for not getting the news about the assignment to her in time -- something that rang distinctly sour with Abbey. She'd shrugged it off, though, caught up in checking her voicemail and the various regular mail that had come in during her absence.

Then Kelly had begun asking about the assignment; yet before Abbey could reply, Kelly began offering suggestions. Suggestions, Abbey thought, that sounded a lot like orders.

"I was under the impression," Abbey had said, hesitant, "that the group made their own decisions about this sort of thing."

Kelly shook her head breezily, long auburn hair waving down her back like a banner. "Oh, of course, but you've had a chance now to see how busy they are. They don't have time to make this sort of decision, it's immaterial." She pronounced each syllable of the word, drawing it out as if she were savoring it. "Besides, we're the ones who have to handle the packaging, we know what they want overall."

Abbey had taken the suggestions with a grain of salt nonetheless, jotting down notes with something of a resentful attitude. Why me? she'd begun to wonder again. The time had passed swiftly after that, what with one thing and another, and then she'd ended up late here.

Lamely, she concluded to Johnny, "Just a bunch of stuff I had to catch up on. Nothing important. And then midtown traffic was horrible, so I ended up leaving my cab and running here." In truth, now, she didn't see how the encounter with Kelly was that important. She could try following Kelly's suggestions, but she didn't want to; and on the road, away from her boss, how would Kelly know, anyway?

* * *

For the next several days, Abbey did her best to go about her job without letting the tension between her and Justin affect her work. For the most part, she was successful, though the other guys noticed that she seemed a bit quieter. And Justin seemed to be glaring at her whenever she turned around -- or so she thought, feeling slightly paranoid.

They were also extremely busy, which, Abbey thought guiltily, helped her to avoid Justin. Between rehearsals for _Saturday Night Live_ , various appearances on MTV and local radio, and so on, she did a lot of running around like a chicken with her head cut off. It didn't help that Kelly had other assignments for her while she was in town, usually scheduled on the opposite side of town or in difficult-to-get-to places, so Abbey found herself on a lot of subway rides and in many cabs.

But she had her apartment, where she was gradually getting packed for Florida; she was enjoying the time with her family, since she wouldn't see them again for a while. Cat's babbling about the band was just short of incessant; Abbey found it almost ironic that her little sister's favorite guy in the group was Justin.

"What's so hot about him?" she'd asked during one visit, genuinely curious.

"Oh, come on!" Cat had said in disbelief. "He's got the eyes, and the voice, and..." Her voice lowered, conspiratorial. "The body!"

Abbey gave Cat a reproachful look. "You're too young to be looking at bodies."

"Yeah, but..." Cat dropped her head to the side and looked up at Abbey endearingly. "Besides, he's really sweet."

"And how do you know that?"

"Just from, you know, all the interviews and stuff. You've talked to him, haven't you? You'd know better than I would. Doesn't he have a great smile?"

As Cat offered yet another magazine for Abbey's inspection, the older sister hid a sigh of disappointment. _I'm glad she's too young to know the truth. And I'm sure as hell not going to disillusion her. He'd better be nice to her, or I'll punch him out_.

* * *

The group, plus bodyguards, went out early the next week to see "Final Destination". As they took their seats in the back of the mostly-empty theater, Lance noticed Justin being unusually quiet. One of the previews was for a romantic comedy, which made his own heart twist a little with missing Carrie. _I'll have to call her tonight_ , he thought before glancing over at Justin. The singer looked completely forlorn, which surprised Lance. Justin had never been this way about a girl, not to the extent of Lance's knowledge, anyway. He resolved to talk to him about it after the movie.

Lance knew that the hotel had a private basketball court; so, after the movie, he proceeded to challenge Justin to a one-on-one game. This was out of character enough that Justin gave Lance a strange look.

"You on crack or something? You know I'll beat you like a red-headed stepchild."

"I've been practicing," Lance said evenly, though he hadn't. "Come on. Or are you scared I'll win?"

A disbelieving snort was Justin's response. The others, still talking about the movie, had missed most of the exchange, but Chris leaned over the back of the seat ahead of them to look at the pair. "Did I hear a challenge? Who's goin' down?"

Lance leaned back, folding his arms over his chest with a confident look. "Just might be the J-man tonight."

"We'll see about that," Justin replied, his eyes focused on the passing scenery. Chris's gaze leveled on Justin for a moment before he looked over to Lance, one eyebrow raised. He had noticed the younger man's remoteness as well, but accepted Lance's subtle nod: the bass singer was on it.

Back at the hotel, Lance procured a basketball from the concierge once he'd changed into more appropriate clothes for the game. When he got out to the court, accompanied by one of the bodyguards, he found Justin already there; wearing a down parka against the cool evening air, he was jogging in place just inside the court.

Lance tossed him the ball, and they got down without much preamble. As he'd expected, Lance fared poorly against Justin's greater experience with the game, but Lance wasn't worried about that tonight. After a particularly poor attempt at a basket that Justin intercepted, he followed Justin back to block, waiting until the last moment. The ball was about to leave Justin's hands when Lance said, "So, what's going on with you and Abbey?"

Caught off guard, Justin dropped the ball. Lance scooped it up and backed toward the basket, grinning as he dribbled the ball.

"That was so not fair!" Justin panted.

"Just answer the question." Lance aimed, dodged to the side to avoid Justin's attempt at a block, and shot. This time, to his pleased surprise, he made it.

"Nothing's going on." Justin grabbed the ball, dribbled it away. Lance put his hands on his hips and shook his head.

"Then why do you jump every time I say the name Abbey?" He couldn't quite suppress a smirk as, once again, Justin flinched. This time, though, he held on to the ball, although his next shot hit the board too high and bounced away without even touching the rim.

"It's nothing, she's just a bitch." Justin scrambled after the ball, but Lance grabbed it and, maneuvering closer to the hoop, aimed again.

"A bitch, huh? That's pretty harsh. She seems nice to me." Lance took the shot, not flinching when he missed. Justin grabbed the ball out of the air, dodging away; Lance went after him to try and block.

"Well, she isn't. She doesn't want to be anyone's friend, she doesn't want to hang out, she's a bitch."

"Wow, you mean, she's here to do a job? Yeah, she sure sounds like a bitch to me."

Justin stopped, tucking the ball under one arm so that he could focus a narrow blue glare at Lance. "Dude, that's not what I mean and you know it. You don't have to be so smug just because you have Carrie."

Lance's own eyes narrowed in return, but instead of retorting, he pushed the ball out of Justin's hold and darted around him after it. The game continued in silence for several moments; after Justin made another shot, he looked sheepishly at Lance.

"I'm sorry. That was cold."

"You're right, it was." Lance bounced the ball back into the court, following it in, feeling no malice towards Justin. He knew his friend was just lashing out. "So tell me why you're upset."

Justin swiped at the ball, his motion lacking the energy he'd had before. Lance easily took the ball back, holding it close for a moment.

"I think I like her a lot," Justin confessed. "So why can't she like me back?"

"Maybe it just isn't that simple. She doesn't seem like someone you can get to know that easily," Lance replied, heading over to one of the benches and setting the ball down. Justin followed, slinging his legs on either side of the bench.

"So, like, what do I do? I have to do something, or I'm gonna go crazy before the end of the tour."

Lance restrained a smile. He could hardly claim expertise when it came to romance; before his surprise reunion with Carrie, he'd only gone out on a few dates. Most of those had been with Danielle Fishel, and that particular relationship hadn't ended too well due to both of them always being busy. But Lance wanted to be there for Justin, who obviously needed advice.

"Well, to be honest, I don't really know what to tell you. There's a lot to think about here, after all. Just because she's the tour photographer doesn't mean she won't be with us forever. She could be assigned somewhere after this leg of the tour--" He caught a bleak look on Justin's face, and, bemused, hastily revised his mental arguments. He's got it bad.

"Okay, well, keep in mind that the media's going to have a field day. Look at how they're still playing up the stuff with you and Britney."

"I thought about that," Justin replied drily. "Believe me."

Lance shivered a little. Now that they'd stopped playing, the cold air was starting to get to him; Justin was all right with his coat, but Lance had forgotten to bring one with him. "Why don't we go inside?" he suggested.

"A'ight." Amenable, Justin stood up, grabbing the basketball, and they headed in towards the elevators. He kept thumping the ball on the carpeted floor until Mike reached out a large hand and took it away from him, earning a scowl.

"So you've considered all the angles," Lance said.

"Yep."

"And you talked to her about it?"

"Well, sort of." Justin had been trying to block the argument, if one could call it that, from his memory. He'd been supremely unsuccessful; even now, the glare she'd given him was clear in his mind.

"Oh." Lance felt it all come together as he thought back over the events of the past few days: Justin's surliness during the @MTV performance, though he'd hidden it well from the cameras; Chris's off-hand comment about catching Abbey and Justin in a room together just before the show. Obviously something had gone down between them which brought on Justin's present moodiness.

"So what did she say?" Lance finally asked. They'd reached their floor by then; conveniently, both were sharing a room -- as they usually did on tour, since they both liked quiet sleeping environments -- and Justin dug in a pocket for his keycard.

"Well, she said that she just wants to do her job, be part of the crew, not hang out with us."

"With you, you mean. Thanks, Mike," Lance added, smiling to the bodyguard.

"No problem, man. Later."

Lance closed the door and headed over to turn up the heat, as he was shivering. "Okay, so she doesn't want to get involved."

"Pretty much." Justin shed his jacket and dropped like a stone onto his bed.

"And you do." Lance sat on the other bed, watching Justin.

"Hell yeah."

"Well, you seem to be at an impasse." Lance leaned back, thoughtful.

"Help me out, man." Justin sat up, looking almost desperate. "You can talk to her, find out why she won't go out with me."

Lance raised an eyebrow, not liking where this idea of Justin's was heading. "Uh-uh. No way."

"No, see, she wouldn't feel threatened by you because you have a girlfriend already."

"She doesn't know that--"

Justin was up again, pacing around the room with frenetic energy. "Maybe you could be like apologizing for me and us getting off on the wrong foot, stuff like that."

"Well, that wouldn't be a lie," Lance muttered under his breath. He glanced up to see Justin glaring at him. "No, dude, forget it. There is no way I'm going along with this. Just get it out of your head right now. You want the girl, you have to talk to her yourself."

"But she won't talk to me, that's the problem. Come on, Lance, you're my only hope."

"No way, Princess Leia."

* * *

Abbey stopped at her favorite deli for lunch on Friday. They had a photo shoot scheduled later in the day at Jive, and though she wasn't the primary photographer, Kelly wanted her there nonetheless.

 _Doesn't make sense to me, but ours is not to reason why_. She hummed to herself while waiting for her sandwich -- her favorite, pastrami on rye -- and, once she had it, looked around to see if there was a free table. Unfortunately, since it was lunchtime, the deli was fairly packed. As she scanned the place, she caught sight of blond-streaked brown hair, spiked in front, and realized that it was Lance. He was alone. With a deep breath of mental fortification, she headed over. _So much for not socializing. At least it isn't Timberlake_.

Lance had papers scattered all over the small table, with a hat and sunglasses crowning one pile. He appeared to be engrossed in a letter sitting next to his plate.

"Mind if I join you?" she asked.

Lance looked up, and she had a moment to reflect that he actually looked quite nice with glasses on. He also looked a bit furtive, but he cleaned off the opposite side of the table, making room for her readily enough. "Go ahead," he said.

"Thanks." She slid into the seat, setting her shoulder bag at her feet. "I see you found my favorite deli."

"Really?" He glanced up at her again, and she thought she saw -- nervousness? no, couldn't be -- in his eyes. "Weird. I always come here when we're in New York."

"Strange coincidence." She smiled and tucked into her sandwich. Her eyes flickered to the letter, still laying on the table; from what she could see, the handwriting was feminine, if not overly frilly.

Lance caught the direction of her gaze. A faint blush stained his cheeks as he hastily gathered up the letter, folding it back into an envelope. "Sorry. It's from my girlfriend, I just got it today."

"Oh, that's sweet." She caught the blush, smiling at him warmly.

He picked at the potato chips that had come with his sandwich, fidgeting enough that Abbey arched an eyebrow at him.

"Something wrong?" she asked.

"Sort of," Lance said, tightening his lips momentarily. "I actually kind of wanted to talk to you, although," he hastened to add, as her eyes widened, "I had no idea you liked coming here. Really." He took a deep breath. _Timberlake, you owe me big money for this_.

"What, then?"

"Well, I wanted to apologize for Justin's behavior towards you. It was uncool of him, but he won't admit it -- and I really feel bad about it."

"He told you, huh?" She had gone cool, withdrawn without moving.

"Not exactly," Lance said quickly. "He's been in a really foul mood the past few days, and Chris said he thought he heard you guys arguing at MTV. And it wasn't that hard to put two and two together."

"Ah." Abbey put down her sandwich, appetite gone. "Well, that's all well and good, but it really doesn't mean as much coming from you. No offense, but it's not like you're responsible for his behavior."

"Tell me about it." Lance rolled his eyes. "Sometimes I just want to shake him hard."

"You too, huh?"

They ended up sitting in the deli, talking, for almost two hours. Abbey found Lance easy to talk to; freed by the knowledge that he already had a girlfriend, she didn't have to worry about whether he was thinking about her as a woman, so she could talk to him on a normal level. He was much more down-to-earth than she would have thought, for someone of his superstar status; Abbey had had a glimpse of that during their first photo session, but she'd been concentrating on her job then. Now, she was a bit annoyed with herself for not allowing herself to relax then; and, with a mental smile, she had to admit that Justin had, indeed, had a point. It wouldn't kill her to get to know the people she'd be working with for the next few months.

 _Damn him_.

In the middle of describing his house to Abbey, Lance glanced at his watch and gasped. "Oh, shoot -- the session, we're gonna be late."

"You're kidding." Abbey grabbed her bag reflexively, looking at her own watch. "No way, I totally lost track of time."

Lance had guessed by now that this didn't happen very often to her; he'd figured out by now that Abbey was something of a control freak, which might well explain why Justin was so effectively rattling her. He hadn't meant to carry on like this, though, so he hurriedly crammed his stuff into the outer flap of his laptop's case. "The offices are just down the street. We can make it if we run."

"Let's go." Abbey grabbed his sunglasses and cap, handing them to him on their way out the door.

The streets were crowded, but not impossible to maneuver. Abbey blinked at the snow that had begun to fall while they'd been chatting away in the deli; she knew she should be used to freaky weather by now, but sometimes New York still managed to surprise her.

"I thought winter was over," Lance panted, chuckling.

"Tell that to the white stuff," she replied. They didn't have far to run, fortunately; the Jive offices were in a building two blocks over and one down, and they made it inside with just a dusting of snow on their shoulders.

Abbey had been laughing at a joking comment of Lance's about how he lived in proper climates, where people never had to deal with annoying things like weather, but she froze when she saw Kelly in the lobby. Kelly's fashion-model face was set in a scowl, and she tapped her foot, arms folded.

"Well, it's nice of you to show up," she said in a voice colder than the air outside.

"Kelly -- I'm sorry," Abbey started, confused. But Lance stepped in, brushing snow off his shoulders.

"Ma'am, it's my fault we're late. We were having something to eat and lost track of time." His implied tone -- _are you going to be mad at your moneymaker?_ \-- made Abbey grin.

"Well." Kelly tossed Abbey a final glare. "I'm sure I'm sorry for Abbey's behavior, and you don't have to take the blame for her. There's nothing to be done about it now, though. Shall we?"

She spun on one heel and stalked towards the elevators; behind her, Abbey gaped at Lance, who was returning her dumfounded look.

"What the heck was that all about?" he asked.

"Your guess is as good as mine." Abbey sighed, starting off after Kelly. This was the first time she'd seen her boss display such behavior, and she hoped it would be the last.

But an ugly feeling sank into her spine as she trailed after Lance and Kelly.

* * *

Abbey sat in a corner of the spacious studio, watching the photo session with distant eyes. The room was crowded with props, camera equipment, racks of clothing, lights and so on; it suited her to be lost among all the stuff. She wasn't even helping -- Robert Holt, the photographer, had two assistants loading film, setting lights and changing backgrounds -- and so, despite the atmosphere of the studio that she usually loved, she was beginning to heartily wish that she was anywhere but there.

She'd been embarrassed enough by Kelly's stinging rebuke in the lobby. Her humiliation had begun to fade, though, and Lance had made a couple of jokes that actually had her laughing as they entered the studio. Then she'd seen Justin, lounging on a chair near the others, and her laugh had died in her throat. The look in his eyes was nothing short of hostile. When Robert, clucking at them, had called the group over, she'd slunk into a corner and tried very hard to pretend that she didn't exist. From there, she'd heard Kelly offer profuse apologies for the obvious inconsideration of her employee (though, since she wasn't watching, she hadn't seen Chris and Joey exchange confused looks through that speech). Her cheeks burned as she hunched down on the ratty old chair in the corner.

 _What's her point in making me look bad? It doesn't reflect well on her, because it looks like she can't control her employees. God, someone please shoot me now_. Now, an hour into the session, she shifted on the uncomfortable chair, wishing she'd brought a book or something to do. Then again, she hadn't thought she'd need one, since Kelly had made it sound like she'd actually be doing something worthwhile. If only she could sneak out; the thought was fruitless, since Kelly would doubtless be pissed.

It was a tempting idea, though, and Abbey's mind immediately began to teem with excuses. I have to go to the bathroom. No, too simple; besides, it would look strange if she took her coat, and if she didn't return in a few minutes it would look suspicious. _I have to make some phone calls_. To whom, though? She had to have a fleshed-out story if Kelly started asking questions. _There's some email I have to catch up on. No, voicemail_ , she amended. _I haven't checked it in a few days, and_ \--

Oh, hell. She'd never been much of a liar and she knew it all too well. Glancing at her watch, she sighed. The session could last anywhere from another half hour to three more, depending on the temperament of the band and the photographer, and she knew that their schedule was open for the next couple of hours. _Well, I'll just endure it. Then Kelly can finish ripping me a new one in front of everyone, and I can go home_.

Her thoughts about Kelly had become rather unpleasant in the past hour. Abbey knew she should give her boss the benefit of the doubt -- she hardly knew the woman, after all, she'd only been assigned to Kelly just before the 'N Sync job -- but she was still feeling the flush of humiliation. _Was that scene really necessary? And why did she have to do it in front of Lance? Even Mom never chewed me out in front of my friends_.

"Abbey, are you watching? That's how you get the good shots." Kelly's voice interrupted her reverie. Her boss had spent most of the previous hour either on her cellphone or talking to Jive executives who popped in to see their current favorite artists. Apparently, now that she had a free moment, she'd chosen to spend it with Abbey. _Lucky me_ , Abbey thought sourly.

Obedient, though, she turned her head to watch the proceedings. Holt's assistants ran around like white lightning, giving Abbey a pang of envy -- _must be nice to have one assistant, let alone two_ \-- while he spoke an endless stream of verbosity towards the group, the assistants, anyone within earshot. _I wonder: if he stopped talking, would his brain shut down_?

The guys were wearing clothes provided by the wardrobe designer, and, properly made up and styled, Abbey had to admit that they looked pretty decent. She hadn't really been paying attention to their looks during her first session with them, since then they were just subjects on the other side of the camera.

As she watched, Richard began breaking them up for individual pictures. Not surprisingly, he started with Justin; he was the only one whose name the photographer seemed to know, since she heard him order the others around with names like "you!" or "the red-haired guy", or, in Lance's case, "Blondie". The others seemed to get a kick out of that nickname. Richard then began to discuss poses with Justin; Abbey couldn't hear all of the conversation, but she caught the words "going for a sexy effect" and "female fans", and tried not to roll her eyes.

Finally, Justin nodded -- not looking too terribly happy, it might be noted -- and Robert went back behind the camera. "See? He really knows how to handle people," Kelly said reverently.

 _Handle_? Abbey didn't like that, but Kelly was still talking.

"Abbey, I'm sorry I was harsh on you earlier. I don't like coming down on my employees like that, but you understand that I couldn't cut you a break just because you were having lunch with one of our stars, don't you?"

Numbly, Abbey nodded, not liking the direction in which the conversation was headed.

"And I shouldn't even have to say this, but you really don't want to even think about getting involved with any of them. I know it's easy, you're all close in age, they're all very good looking, so are you of course, and you're all spending time together -- but Jive will be up in arms if anything happens, and it wouldn't be very professional, now would it?"

Every word seemed to hit Abbey with the weight of a sledgehammer. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "But -- we just ran into each other in the deli, it wasn't like we went out at all," she said weakly. One hand rubbed at the other, her fingers picking at ragged cuticles.

Kelly _tsk_ ed. "Well, of course I know that, and you know that -- but suppose someone from the media had seen you in there? They would have drawn their own conclusions, and it would have turned into a circus. You can't refute it once the public gets a whiff of it, true or not. Believe me, Abbey, I'm just looking out for your best interests."

Abbey was too stunned by this to argue. Admittedly, Kelly had a point -- and, no, she didn't want people thinking she was the girlfriend of any of the guys -- but was public opinion really that important, and that narrow-minded? She felt cold all over now.

"Why don't you go ahead and take the rest of the afternoon off," Kelly said. "You don't look that well."

Nodding, not wanting to question her sudden good fortune, Abbey gathered up her coat and bag and hurried to the door. Pausing there, she glanced back; her eyes caught on Justin, whom Robert was still exhorting to "give me sexy, give me wanton desire..." Justin's brows were lowered, his head tilted forward a little, and his indolent pose belied the dark tension of his eyes. Abbey found herself sucking in a breath at the intense look he was giving -- and her face went red when she realized that he was staring at her.

Almost distantly, she heard Robert cry, "That's it! Perfect!" Gulping, she turned and all but ran from the studio, farewells from the other guys echoing in her ears.

* * *

Back in her apartment, curling up in a comforter with a mug of tea sounded like the best idea. Her sinuses were starting to feel clogged, so she took some cold medicine and vitamin A in hopes of staving off an all-out cold, which she didn't want to have during the flight back to Orlando in two days. Thoroughly dosed, she found a book to curl up with on the couch, lit some candles, and tried to relax.

Unfortunately, every time her mind started to drift, that image of Justin as she'd last seen him popped into her head. It was all too easy to connect her afternoon back to the look he'd given her when she and Lance had arrived, laughing, at the studio; then she realized that she'd been staring at the same page for five minutes straight, and, with a sigh, put the book down.

 _Who needs the media to start a rumor? Just take one Justin Timberlake, add an innocent meeting, and poof! Instant gossip mill. Geez, you'd think he was jealous or something_.

When she saw where that particular train of thought was headed, she got up, put the book on a side table, and turned on the television. Something mindless sounded just about right. But she had barely watched ten minutes of a repeat episode of _South Park_ before she was fast asleep on the couch.

* * *

Lance had not missed the look in Justin's eyes when he and Abbey arrived at the studio. He hadn't had a chance to explain, though, what with the photo session that was immediately followed up by a meeting with a group of Jive marketing and sales executives; not that they couldn't have talked while the others were getting pictures taken, but he had a feeling that Justin's temper was under thin control as it was.

So it was that they had to wait to get back to the hotel before Justin could explode. The element of time had managed to cool him to some extent; Lance was relieved when, in the lobby, Justin merely eyed him and said, "So you and Abbey had lunch together?"

"Not intentionally, no. I went to this deli to eat, and she happened to come in just as I was finishing up, so we talked."

"That just sounds like too much of a coincidence to me."

"How could it? Look, she said it was her favorite place to eat, and I go there whenever we're here, it's not like someone planted me there or something."

"What's this about?" Chris leaned into the conversation as the group approached the elevators. "Yeah, what was up with lunch?"

Lance groaned, smacking his forehead with the heel of his hand. "How many times am I going to have to explain this? Nothing happened. And anyway, you--" he stabbed a finger into Justin's chest "--will be happy to know that I furthered your cause, so quit complaining."

"Oh, you told her the--?" Justin cut off abruptly, realizing that Chris still had his chin on Lance's shoulder.

"Told her the what?" Chris's eyes widened. "Did you tell her that Justin has cooties?"

"Shut up, Chris," Justin said absently.

"Yeah, I apologized to her for your rude behavior. But she'd rather hear it from you, since, just like I told you, coming from me it just sounds like I'm making up for my inconsiderate friend." Lance rolled his eyes. "Now will you listen to me?"

"Hm." Justin crossed his arms, thoughtful. "Maybe you're right. I'll have to try that, but it's just -- she's so frustrating, you know?"

"That's how girls are," JC put in, chuckling.

"Yeah, welcome to the wide world of women." Chris grinned and leaned back on his heels, arms folded, smiling as if sure he'd gotten the last word in.

"And just joining us there is Chris!" Justin shot back. Fortunately, the elevator arrived just then and they were spared the resultant chase scene that might have otherwise ensued.

* * *

 _Phone. Phone ringing. Get the phone_ \--

Abbey awoke to the bleary realization that she wasn't in her bed. Disorientation tumbled her senses, dulled further by a stuffy nose and eyes that she couldn't blink clear, and when she tried to get up her legs were tangled in the comforter. _Phone, phone, don't let the answering machine pick up, shit_!

Stumbling across the main area of the apartment to the phone, she grabbed the receiver from its cradle just in time to hear her own voice, pre-recorded, announcing to her caller that she was unavailable, but would call back as soon as possible. Over the recording, she yelped, "Please don't hang up! I've got it, don't hang up!"

As soon as the beep of the machine sounded, Cat's tirade began. "Abbey! Where the heck are you! It's like eleven o'clock and you said you'd be here at ten, you're gonna make me miss this I'm gonna kill you--"

"Cat, calm down -- what time is it?" she interrupted her sister, wiping her eyes with one hand and blinking at the clock on her VCR.

"It's eleven oh two, what's wrong with your voice? Are you sick?"

"I seem to be." Her throat was scratchy, although she was relieved that talking didn't hurt. Her eyes were a constant mess of tears, though, and her nose was completely stuffed up, which seemed to complement the full forward face ache she was rapidly feeling. "Don't worry, I'll be there asap. I'll throw on some clothes, give me twenty minutes."

"Ten. Abbey, I hope you're okay."

 _Gotta love her priorities_. "Fifteen, and bye." Without further ado, she stumbled into her bedroom to find some clothes. A master of the art of the quick-change, she was ready in short order, though she brushed her hair and tucked it into a swift ponytail on the way to her mother's. Cat, thankfully, was at the door to meet her. From there, they hailed a cab to Times Square and the MTV Studios.

Not surprisingly, the traffic was bad. Cat, looking sweet-faced and innocent -- the very image of the young 'N Sync fan -- bounced nervously in the cab's back seat. "You're going to take pictures of me and them, right, Ab?"

"If they're cool with it. But yes, that's why I brought the camera." Abbey thought it was a safe call; the guys were very good with their fans, from what she'd seen, so she was reasonably sure that they'd be good to Cat. If not, well, she'd already promised herself what she'd do to them.

A block away from the studios, they had to abandon the cab. Traffic had shut down completely in Times Square; dedicated fans had been flocking to the block around the MTV Studios for several days now, despite the biting-cold weather, and the NYPD had been forced to close off the main cross streets due to the extreme number of fans now clogging the area. Abbey dug from her bag two security badges for herself and Cat, though she held onto them until they'd actually reached the perimeter of the area. Much of it had been blockaded off to keep fans from trying to enter the building; armed with their badges, Abbey and Cat were let in, resulting in annoyed cries from nearby girls.

"Now, just be cool, all right?" Abbey advised her little sister as they headed up in the elevator. "They know you're coming, but there's no need to be hyper."

"I'll be cool," Cat promised, practically vibrating with energy. Without warning, she hugged Abbey, squeezing her around the waist. "Thank you! I love you."

"I love you, too," Abbey replied with a smile, hugging Cat in return. She ran a fond hair over her sister's pale blond hair, carefully arranged in barrettes to tumble loosely around her face. "And they will, too."

Making her way down the hallway, Abbey tried hard not to think about the argument she'd had with Justin in the empty office. She didn't want this visit to be haunted by bad memories. Fortunately, Cat's effusive babbling went a long way towards keeping her from thinking about that particular incident.

They paused just outside the doors leading to the warren of rooms comprising the TRL studio. Abbey encouraged Cat to take deep, slow breaths; she was starting to worry that the girl might hyperventilate, as excited as she was. Then, Cat's hand firmly in her own, Abbey led the way into the studio.

With approximately twenty minutes remaining before the performance, the group was in makeup, getting touched up to make sure their skin didn't appear too bright on camera. Joey, Justin and Lance were in the 'hot chairs' at the moment, while JC chatted on a cell-phone and Chris was playing with Busta nearby.

Cat froze in the door. Abbey tugged on her sister's arm, fighting amusement when the girl didn't move. "Come on, Cat, it's all right. They don't bite."

"Oh, hey, Abbey." Chris looked up and waved, shaking one of Busta's paws up and down. JC glanced up and nodded as the others turned in their seats to see who was there.

"Hey, guys. This is my little sister Catherine, that I was telling you about. We all call her Cat, though, so you can feel free to. Is that okay, Cat?" Abbey felt Cat's hand tighten around hers; she seemed to have gone mute from shock.

"Cat? That's a cool name," Joey said. The makeup artist chuckled, "Fine, if you're going to move so much, get out of my chair," and took off the tissue paper tucked into his collar. Joey hopped out of the chair and ambled over to Cat. "Hi, I'm Joey," he said, sticking out his hand.

This was a dilemma for Cat, who was holding on to Abbey with her right hand. Continue clutching her sister, or lose that anchor in favor of Joey Fatone? In the end, the choice was simple. "I, I know who you are," Cat said shyly, and took his hand.

"It's nice to meet you. I hope Abbey hasn't been telling you mean things about us and ruining our reps." At that, Abbey snorted, rolling her eyes.

Cat giggled. "She wouldn't do that, and I wouldn't believe her if she did."

"Abbey, this is your kid sister? I can't believe it. She doesn't look anything like you. She's cute." Justin, also finished with his makeup session, was next to join the small gathering. At his approach, Cat clamped to Abbey again, her eyes wide with something like shock.

"Gee, thanks, Justin." Abbey managed to keep the testiness out of her voice, doing her best to put aside her dislike of him for Cat's sake. "You don't have to suck up, you're already her favorite."

"Really? That is too sweet. Can I sign something for you?"

Cat offered her autograph book -- newly purchased two days previously -- with one shaking hand, and Justin knelt to rest the book on one knee while he signed it. The others made their way over in the interim, Chris carrying Busta so that Cat could scratch his ears, while JC wound up his phone call quickly.

Seeing him tuck away the cell phone in a hip pocket reminded Abbey of Kelly on her cell-phone yesterday, and she took a breath as she remembered what she'd wanted to say. "Hey, by the way, I wanted to apologize for yesterday, being late and all," she began in her best calm tone. "I know how busy everything is right now--" Abbey broke off when she saw bemused looks coming her way from everyone but Lance, who was now busy signing Cat's autograph book.

"It really wasn't a big deal," JC replied, voice slightly confused. "I'd only got there about five minutes before you did, so it's not like we were waiting long or anything."

"Yeah, what's up with Kelly anyway?" Chris asked. "That whole thing about you being all inconsiderate was just a bunch of crap, it didn't even make sense."

Abbey shrugged, feeling a bit uncomfortable; she'd expected them to simply accept the apology and move on, rather than take her side. "I've been trying to figure that out myself," she replied.

"And if it wasn't for me, you wouldn't have been late, anyway," Lance put in. Cat's eyes grew wider throughout this, and Abbey glanced at her sister -- missing the look exchanged by Justin and Lance -- thinking only of how this must sound to the girl's ears.

"Okay, well -- now that that's out of the way, why don't we get some pictures?" she suggested brightly.

She was glad that they gave her sister the royal treatment; something in her heart softened to see it. She knew that they would have been as sweet to Cat regardless of whether she was Abbey's sister or not, and that touched her deeply. They had to pose for pictures quickly, since showtime was nearing; then Abbey led Cat over to the side of the stage area.

The studio was filled with its audience already; the group, mostly young women with a few men scattered throughout, whispered excitedly, charged with palpable tension. Abbey noted that the performance area had changed once again from the usual TRL look; today a stage had been built into one corner of the gigantic glass windows that displayed MTV to the New York streets, and a runway connected the stage to a side area which held six director's chairs. On the wall next to that, five mannequins had been strung up, each dressed and styled so as to vaguely resemble a member of 'N Sync. Dave Holmes and his co-veejay, a woman Abbey didn't recognize, were preparing for the show with various crew personnel.

Abbey chuckled when Cat reached for her hand again. "You okay, hon?"

"I still can't believe I just met them. I'm still shaking. Thank you, Abbey, thank you..."

"Shh, shh, it's okay. Look, I think it's starting."

Abbey found herself watching Cat more than the group during the two-hour program. Cat's reactions were immediate, intense, and emotional; when the guys first came out on stage, she stood up with the rest of the audience, screaming and applauding as if she hadn't just seen them ten minutes before. For the rest of the show, her eyes never wavered from the stage where the five of them sat to be interviewed by Dave Holmes, reeling off their list of top ten favorite videos of all time, participating in a game of trivia about each other so that one fan could win a poster of their _Rolling Stone_ cover, and generally goofing off and having fun.

It wasn't anything Abbey hadn't seen before, but she could see how simply enchanting it was that these five young men with incredible talent were also normal guys like any other; there was no stand-offishness or snobbery, even when the cameras weren't rolling. They were being themselves, a fact to which Abbey could readily attest. And being themselves was something the audience ate up; when Justin absently sang along with a couple of lines from Lenny Kravitz's "Fly Away", their favorite video, several of the girls in the audience screamed -- Abbey thought that maybe it was because this was such a natural, normal thing to do, to sing along to a favorite song.

Listening to them sing "This I Promise You" early in the show, she was struck again by the sweetness of their voices. The song may have been romantic pap (not that most of the studio audience cared), but the transcendent harmonies lent it a rich soulfulness that almost made her want to believe that love was a real thing, and that promises lasted.

At one point, during Justin's verse, she thought she saw his eyes slide over to focus on her for a moment; but she shook herself, and he was looking away again. That couldn't have been right; she hastily rationalized that he was looking at Cat, because he was still mad at her, right?

After the show, Abbey managed to get Cat back to the dressing room quickly enough for farewell hugs and well-wishes. The guys were running off to a dinner being held in their honor by Jive, but they were gratified at her extremely positive response to the show -- especially to the performance of "Bye Bye Bye", in which she'd stood up and done at least half the choreography along with them. More effusive now, she babbled thanks to each of them, squeezing tight with each hug. Then they were herded out the door by Johnny, who nodded to Abbey, quickly reminding her of the flight tomorrow.

"All right, squirt. How about we go get something to eat and then I'll take you back home--" She paused there to sneeze into a tissue, hastily dug from a pocket. "Hopefully without giving you my cold."

"I can't believe I met them," Cat burbled happily. That was her refrain all the way out of the studios, into a cab (the traffic having become much clearer now that the show was over and the group had vacated the premises), and to Abbey's apartment. Abbey had wanted to cook dinner for her sister, but by now she was feeling so lethargic that she settled for ordering Chinese -- to Cat's delight -- and collapsing on the couch.

Cat promptly started calling all her friends to gloat and compare notes. Abbey listened with half an ear, chuckling softly as she made some mint tea for herself. _God, was I ever that young and excitable? Yeah, I think I was, so help me. When did I get old_?

* * *

Justin rubbed his head and shifted his shoulder bag as he walked up to the gate on Sunday morning. To his right, JC was discussing something with Lance, and Mike, on his left, was silent -- he assumed due to the early hour.

"If there's one thing I hate," he muttered, half to himself and half to Mike, "it's getting up early." Granted, he had to do a lot of it thanks to 'N Sync's often frantic schedule, which would only be getting more hectic from now on; but that didn't mean he had to like it. It didn't help that, to celebrate their last night in New York, Joey had suggested that they all go out clubbing. Justin had only had one beer, since he didn't want to risk a hangover; but something about the crowded atmosphere of the club, the smokiness and the flashing lights in the dark space, had got to him and he was still feeling a bit groggy now.

He felt a bit of pleasure at the fact that Joey was obviously feeling much worse. But only a little bit of pleasure; it wouldn't have been right to gloat, after all. Joey's brother, Steve, was walking with him, carrying his bag and a paper cup of coffee.

As they got to the gate, he saw Abbey's blond head already there, her small form curled into one of the chairs. Her nose was red, and she looked pale, coughing into a tissue when she wasn't sipping from a steaming cup. His eyes narrowed a bit, concern hitting him: she'd sounded stuffy yesterday, but she hadn't looked quite this bad then.

Lance tugged at his shoulder. "Hey, you going to stand there in the middle of the terminal all day?" Seeing that the others had taken seats, he slung his bag off of his shoulder, dropping it on the floor, and sat down.

"Hey, what's up with Abbey?" Chris asked, having also noticed her. She sneezed as they watched, looking up with gratitude when one of the crew offered her a small traveler's box of tissues.

"I guess she's sick," Lance said. "She didn't sound too good yesterday."

"She'll be fine," Justin mumbled, drawing a look from Chris.

Soon enough, the boarding call was made, and the first-class passengers stood up to get on the plane. Justin glanced absently at his ticket to see which seat he was in before picking up his bag and shuffling onto the plane. He had the aisle, which was fine with him; he tended to get up and move around during flights.

On the plane, he stuffed his bag into the overhead compartment, keeping out a book he'd bought in the gift shop, and then flopped into the seat. Occupied with reading the back of the book, it took him a moment to realize that someone was standing in the aisle next to him.

"Excuse me," Abbey said in a quiet, scratchy voice. "Um, that's my seat."

Justin glanced at the empty window seat, then back at her, eyebrows raised high. Rolling her eyes, she held up the ticket with the seat's number prominently displayed.

"I know I'm not your favorite person in the world right now, but I swear I didn't arrange to sit by you. Can we at least tolerate each other for the flight?" she asked.

He wanted to object to her assumption about his feelings for her, but, thinking back over the past few days, he could see exactly why she'd think that way. Hastily, he stood to let her into the seat.

"Thanks," she murmured. Sitting down, she buckled her seatbelt, then set her bag in her lap. "I'll try not to be too contagious."

"Bad cold?" he asked, attempting sympathy.

She nodded, her eyes on her bag, which she was rummaging in. "Can't seem to shake it."

Justin fought with his inner urge to give her the cold shoulder; he wanted to put up a united front right now, not let her see that she was getting to him. But he couldn't just sit by and watch her suffer, either.

Gesturing to the flight attendant, he made a quiet request. Abbey, occupied with getting her sweater out of her bag, didn't notice this until Justin said, "Here, lean forward."

"What?" She looked at him in confusion, seeing in his hands a pillow and blanket, while a small carton of orange juice and a few paper packets of pills sat on his tray table.

"Lean forward," he said again, a little gruffly. Mystified, Abbey did so, allowing him to place the pillow behind her head. He then proceeded to spread the blanket over her before handing the orange juice over.

"Are you allergic to anything?" he asked.

"Not that I know of, Doctor Timberlake," she replied, bemused.

"Here." He tore open the small packet of Tylenol Cold & Flu and placed the gelcaps in her hand. "These are good, they should knock the stuffiness out."

Surprised, she looked at him as she accepted the pills. "Thank you, Justin."

He was taken with the depth of her grey eyes, drawn into their depths, even as the warmth of her palm seemed to burn into his. For a moment, he forgot where he was; then something moved in the corner of his vision, and he realized that he had been staring. "Uh, yeah, no problem. Just didn't want you going and getting me sick."

"Sure." Abbey's voice was mildly amused; she took the pills, washing them down with the orange juice, as he put his tray table up and grabbed his book again.

By this time, the plane had left the terminal, taxiing down the runway for takeoff. Justin was relieved to leave the ground, even more so when they moved up above the gloomy oppression of the grey morning into bright sunshine.

As soon as they leveled out, Abbey wasted no time in putting her seat back and curling up to try and sleep. She was out in moments, and Justin snuck glances at her in between pages of his book. He was still annoyed at whatever quirk of fate had put them in neighboring seats, but he supposed it wasn't really all that bad.

Across the aisle, Chris and Lance had been observing the pair since Abbey had first sat down next to Justin. Lance was starting to feel a bit protective of Abbey ever since he'd first agreed to help Justin out; their conversation over lunch the other day had only clinched his feelings. Chris, meanwhile, just liked her, and that was enough for his friendly loyalty to kick in.

"I think he's finally loosening up," Chris murmured.

"Maybe," Lance said, softly; he was more sure of Justin's feelings, but knew, too, that his friend's pride had been stung by Abbey's cool indifference.

They'd had some conversation about it, last night at the club and later at the hotel. Though the atmosphere of the club wasn't very conducive to talking, Justin had insisted that Lance tell him about the accidental lunch date. Lance had recited as much of the discussion as he could remember, although it had wandered quite a bit the way small talk does.

"But what did she say about me?" Justin had wanted to know.

"Besides that you're hardheaded and stubborn?" Lance had shot back. "Not much."

Watching them now, Lance thought about how much things had changed since their flight up here just a couple of weeks ago. Wondered, too, how much would change -- between Justin and Abbey, for them all -- in the weeks to come.

* * *

Work resumed as normal on Monday morning. Abbey drove, despite her ongoing cold and the exhaustion she was feeling along with it, out to the Compound to do some quick cameo shooting. She had a meeting with the website manager, too, though she was privately hoping that the meeting would be delayed or postponed; in her current condition, she didn't want to be coughing and sneezing all over the guy. _Hell of a first impression to make_.

As she pulled up in the driveway, she saw several vans printed with the MTV logo there already. _Oh yeah, that's right -- Johnny said MTV was doing some kind of shooting for a special_. Rolling her eyes, she resolved not to let them catch her on camera. _The last thing I need is a million 'N Sync fans hating my guts_.

Once she'd arrived, a personal assistant of Johnny's showed her to a small meeting room, since he and the boys were in a meeting in his office at the moment. That in itself entailed what seemed to Abbey a mile-long walk, and by the time they got to the room, all she wanted to do was put her head down on the table and pray for mercy. The assistant ran off to get her some water while she dug in her bag for meds, hoping she had something with her that wouldn't put her to sleep.

"Excuse me, I'm -- oh, you're not Johnny. Sorry." A young man peered into the room, a look of disappointment on his face when he recognized who she wasn't.

Abbey looked up from her bag, shaking her head. "Nope, I'm not. I think he's in a meeting right now, though."

"Oh." He glanced around, the expression on his face making him remind Abbey of someone. "Mind if I wait here with you?"

She shrugged. "Be my guest."

He sat down across the table from her, and after a moment, offered a hand. "I'm Greg Ketosky."

"Abbey Eldridge," she replied, then grabbed a tissue and sneezed into it. "Ugh. Forgive me if I don't shake. I'm contagious."

"Bless you," he said absently. "That sounds like a nasty cold."

"Picked it up in New York," she muttered. "Figures I'd get this for a souvenir."

He chuckled, and looking at him again, Abbey saw in his dark, close-cropped hair and equally dark eyes the resemblance to her brother, Carter. The resemblance both amused her and made her feel a pang of longing; she hadn't seen Carter in at least a year.

"So, Abbey," Greg said, "mind if I ask what you're here for?"

She gestured to the two camera bags she'd set on the table. "I'm the tour photographer, plus, since I'm around, they abuse me for other stuff too."

Greg's face took on a look of recognition then, and he chuckled again. "Oh, okay, you're my 10:00."

"Huh?"

"I'm the website manager," he explained, smiling. "I'm sorry, I didn't even realize who you were."

Abbey double-blinked, let out a small sigh. "Oh, okay -- well, I'm sorry to have to meet you in such a rotten state, but as long as I don't get you sick, I think we'll be okay."

"Great." Greg chuckled. "I have no intention of getting sick anyway, so we'll just be careful."

The website, he explained, its content officially dictated (more or less) by Jive, did have a certain amount of freedom in the information it could display about the band. He wanted to create something that was personal for the fans, hopefully with interactive areas where they could talk with each other and leave messages for the group, and Abbey's role would be to provide interesting and fun pictures that wouldn't be seen anywhere else.

"Exclusivity is what I'm all about. These girls spend hundreds of dollars a month on magazines, and I want to give them something special for free because they're so dedicated, so loyal. So you get to have fun, come up with silly stuff or interesting locations for shooting. Whatever you and the guys want to shoot is up to you."

Abbey considered telling Greg what a wonderfully refreshing change this was from Kelly's oppressive tactics, then decided not to; no reason to spread bad feelings around. She was definitely enjoying talking to him, though, and she couldn't resist telling him about some of the goofy pictures they'd taken before heading to New York, a few of which had been saved to send to some special friends of the guys.

All too soon, it seemed, someone was leaning in and knocking on the open door. "Helloooo," a falsetto voice crooned, _a la _Mrs. Doubtfire; Abbey looked up and smiled faintly at Chris.__

"Hey," she said. Greg nodded and smiled as well.

"We're ready for ya now, Abbey," he reported. "Greg, hey man, good to see ya."

"Well, that's my cue, I'll just get out of here," Greg said, and started to gather up the briefcase and laptop that he'd opened over the course of their conversation.

"See you later, Greg," Abbey called, picking up her bags and following Chris out of the room.

Chris promptly took one of the bags, shouldering it. "So, Abbey, what'cha doing tomorrow night?"

"With any luck, sleeping," she replied. "I'm still feeling pretty crappy, if you can't tell just by the sound of my voice."

"That's no good. We're having a release party for the record tomorrow, here. You should come."

"Are you kidding?" Abbey looked at him, his perfectly innocent face. "Chris, I can barely handle walking around at this point. If I don't have to move tomorrow, I'm not going to."

Chris sighed. "All right, but you're gonna miss a good time."

She rolled her eyes. "And yet somehow I'll live. Besides, you don't want me getting everyone at the party sick, do you?"

"Hmm, good point. Maybe I'll let it slide. But don't think you're getting off that easy."

"Gee. Thanks."

They shot for a couple of lazy hours in the late-morning Florida sun, Abbey wanting to catch this particular light while it stayed a wonderful lucent quality. Mindful of Greg's request, she urged the guys to get loose and silly, hoping to catch in the pictures that quality of fun and enjoyment of life that they displayed to everyone around them.

By the time the session was over, she was seriously flagging. Her head was swimming, and she had to sit down for a few minutes before she began to pack up. Lance knelt down next to her, a concerned look on his face. "Are you okay, Abbey?"

"Yeah," she said, though the sweat prickling all over her skin told a different story. "I think I pushed myself a bit too much today. I'm going to go home and collapse."

"Why don't I drive you? You don't look too good."

"No, that's okay. I'm fine."

"Abbey, I don't think--"

"Lance, I'm okay." She glared at him, her eyes just a bit brighter than normal, and he swallowed.

"All right. But do me a favor and call here when you get home, all right?"

"Sure." She could do that, at least. Finished with getting her equipment, she gave him a glare when he picked up the second bag.

"Don't look at me like that. You're getting help whether you want it or not."

She could hear the others snickering as they walked away, but somehow, at that moment, she just didn't care.

Despite Lance's worries ( _he was just looking out for you, Abbey_ , she scolded herself, _it's not like he wanted anything from you_ ), she made it back to the hotel in one piece. Still, she'd caught her concentration drifting more than once during the drive, so she was glad she'd called the session when she had. After a quick call to assure Johnny that she had made it back alive, she shucked her shoes and collapsed on the bed.

Abbey slept, fitfully at best, through most of the day. When she woke, abruptly and without warning, her room was dark. It took her a few minutes to realize where she was, a minute more to locate the clock. Seeing that the time was 12:03 didn't help; it seemed wrong somehow, as if it should be later or earlier than just after midnight.

She didn't like the shaky, weak feeling in her limbs that increased when she stood up, but some necessities simply had to be dealt with. Afterwards, in the bathroom, she splashed water on her face and contemplated how horrible she looked. Pale and sweaty, her hair a tangled, stringy mess, she had bags under her eyes and her skin looked plastic.

 _Nice. It's a good look for you, Abbey. You should go to the party like this_. Just thinking about the party made her feel queasy and exhausted.

 _Orange juice. I need citrus_. She shuffled into the kitchenette, fumbled a cup out of its plastic wrapping, and poured some orange juice into it by the cold light of the mini-fridge. Sipping at it, she moved over to the couch in front of the TV and sat down, feeling lethargic but awake.

Reaching for the remote, she saw the phone by the bed, its message light blinking. _Oh, of course I couldn't have seen that while I was over there before_.

She had to smile at the first message, which was from Cat, excitedly babbling about how she couldn't wait to see the pictures. The next, Johnny urging her to rest up and try to feel better, also made her smile. _He didn't have to call, but it was nice of him anyway_.

The third message made her want to jump around happily, despite the fact that she was in no shape for such activity. Still grinning, she finished her orange juice and laid down again, already looking forward to tomorrow.

* * *

They got started early the next morning; there were the six new songs to work on, not to mention old choreography to re-learn. In between sessions, there were quick meetings with wardrobe designers, set designers, and so forth, effectively filling all their free time. The fact that the MTV crew was around filming everything only added to Justin's already frazzled nerves.

He did his best to buckle down and focus, though. Distractions were easy to come by, but he wanted his performances to be top-notch; he demanded no less from himself. Every time the thought of Abbey crept into his mind, he ruthlessly shoved it out again.

He'd come very close to calling her last night. It was tempting, to check on her, just to make sure she was okay. But he'd restrained himself -- and then wondered why he felt so weird about talking to her. He'd never had problems talking to girls he'd liked in the past.

Today, he took that nervous energy and poured it into dancing. As usual, Joey and Lance were having a little more trouble getting the steps; he knew it was just the way they were, and spent a little time coaching Joey on a few of the key moves for "Space Cowboy".

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Wade called it a day. Cheering, the five tumbled out of the room on renewed bursts of energy, loping down the hall more or less in formation.

"I'm not even goin' home," Chris declared. "I'm just gonna shower and change and stay here."

"You just don't want to ride with Justin," Joey observed.

Chris nodded. "I ain't crazy."

Justin stuck out his lower lip. "Y'all don't love me."

"We love you, we just don't trust you behind the wheel of a car," JC pointed out.

"So what's going on? We meet back here at seven?" Lance asked, glancing at his watch. "That doesn't give us a whole lot of time."

"Yeah, we should get going. Party!" Joey yelled, and ran out the front door. Chris paused, watching the others go by; then he looked at Justin, who had also stopped just inside the house's large double doors. Justin was looking distant and thoughtful, not something Chris usually saw in him just after rehearsals.

"What?" Chris asked.

"Huh? Oh, nothin'."

"'Oh, nothin'' my butt," Chris replied. "Unless 'nothin'' is cute, blonde and carries a camera everywhere she goes."

"Maybe," Justin said. "I was kinda hopin' she'd be here tonight."

"I don't think she's probably feeling well enough to deal with us yet," Chris pointed out. "Especially you." He got a look shot at him for that, but he blithely ignored it.

"Probably." Justin sighed, shrugged. "Well, I'll see you tonight." With that, he headed out the door.

Chris looked after him. He'd been just a bit too docile, and that was never good when it came to Justin. _What's going in that boy's head now_...?

* * *

Justin took a deep breath as he pulled up in the hotel parking lot. He'd showered, changed, done his best to look decent before coming over here. Surely Abbey would change her mind and go to the party -- with him -- if he made the request in person.

He'd debated stopping for flowers, but then decided that such an action would be overkill. Besides, it wasn't like this was a date or anything. Taking a deep breath, he got out of the car and headed up the walk to the door of the hotel room.

 _I wonder if she'll be mad that I got her hotel and room number from Johnny. Hope not_. He knocked on the door, then stuck his hands in his pockets.

Justin was taken a more than a little aback when, instead of Abbey's face, a man's appeared at the door. The sight of the guy -- tall, handsome, with short-cropped dark hair and dark green eyes -- threw him into momentary speechlessness.

"Uh, can I help you?" the guy asked.

Justin narrowed his eyes, a bit annoyed. "I'm looking for Abbey Eldridge."

"And you are..?" The guy didn't seem dangerous, but something about him bore a protective air that Justin didn't like at all.

"I'm Justin Timberlake. Who the hell are you?"

Just then, Abbey appeared, ducking under the male arm propping open the door. She looked pretty ragged, lines of exhaustion clear on her face, and she clutched an old peach-colored bathrobe around her. Her eyes were wide with surprise.

"Justin!" she exclaimed. "What in the world are you doing here?"

Seeing her casual familiarity with the man -- their close physical proximity, something undefinable about the way they stood together, and his undeniably protective air towards her -- made an alarm go off in the back of Justin's head. He felt disgust -- with her, with himself -- begin to swell in his throat.

"I was going to ask you to come to the party, but I guess you've already got plans," he said, not even bothering to fight the angered tone in his voice. "Just tell me one thing, Abbey: why didn't you tell me you had a boyfriend?"

"Justin--" she started, her voice incredulous and shocked.

But he didn't want to hear it. "Save it," he spat. "Have fun, whatever, just stay out of my face."

Abbey reached for one of his hands, balled into a fist at his side, wanting to calm him down more than anything. He wouldn't let her touch him; he took a step back and then all but ran to his car. The door slammed and the tires squealed as he spun out of the parking lot, leaving Abbey and the stranger stunned in the doorway.

* * *

The party was getting underway as Justin arrived at Johnny's house for the second time that day. The driveway was already crowded with cars, all expensive makes and models; he didn't get to squeal in angrily, as much as he wanted to.

He'd sped all the way over here, trying to burn away his disbelieving anger at the sight of Abbey's boyfriend. Really, it had been a miracle he hadn't been ticketed. The speeding hadn't worked, either; that image, of the two of them, weighed just as heavily on his mind now.

Part of it was anger at himself -- _I could have asked her anytime_ , he scolded himself. _I shouldn't have assumed. No wonder she was being so cool_. The rest of his frustration he dumped, without regret or qualms, on her. _She had every chance to say something. She was playin' me the whole time_.

He followed the sound of a thumping bass beat to the newly-finished ballroom, already decorated with _No Strings Attached_ covers, themed pictures, marionettes and such. The place was about a quarter full, industry types mixed with crew members, Jive employees, and various friends of the group. Over in one corner, he saw Lance with a group of friends, Jack DiFeo among them; Chris and JC were goofing around at the banquet table, and he caught sight of Joey, nearby, talking with Johnny.

Suppressing a growl, Justin headed over to Lance, who saw him coming. The stormy look on Justin's face wasn't a good sign at all; Lance excused himself from the group and met Justin halfway.

"What happened?" he asked, concerned.

"You're not gonna freakin' believe this," Justin replied, his voice low and upset. "Abbey has a boyfriend."

"A what?" Lance shook his head, not quite sure he'd heard Justin right.

"A boyfriend. He's over at her hotel right now."

One of Lance's eyebrows went up; he may not have known Abbey too well, but that didn't sound like her. "You went to her hotel?"

Justin shook his head. "That's not the point. Why didn't she tell me? Did she tell you?"

 _Oh, this is just what I need tonight_. Lance glanced around, saw more people coming in -- including a few women from the press, reporters he recognized whose fawning attitudes wouldn't be too welcome at the moment. "Come on, let's talk about this outside."

They headed out to the patio; the evening was warm, but not too humid, for which Lance was grateful. He watched Justin hop up to settle on the iron railing, his legs swinging between the rails. "So tell me what happened," he prompted.

"Well, I decided to go over and ask her to come to the party. I thought maybe she just didn't want to go, so I called Johnny to find out where she's staying, and I got changed and went over."

"Justin, she's sick," Lance pointed out.

"Yeah, I know." Justin's sullen tone of voice suggested that he hadn't, perhaps, thoroughly comprehended that fact, or was maybe ignoring it. "But, um, I thought maybe she was feeling better, and if I asked her, she'd come. So I go up and knock on her door, and this guy answers."

Lance leaned on the railing, watching Justin. His face betrayed a certain amount of jealousy, but most of it seemed to be pent up, seething behind his eyes.

"And you just assumed that he was her boyfriend?"

Justin shrugged. "Well, yeah. I mean, no, not at first, but he was way defensive of her, and she only had on her sleep clothes and a bathrobe..."

"Which isn't exactly abnormal if you're sick and haven't gotten out of bed all day," Lance pointed out.

"Okay, well. Anyway, so, I kind of got mad and I took off," Justin finished, purposely skipping over the things he'd said. In hindsight, they sounded a bit harsh, tinged with the anger that he no longer felt; he was a bit ashamed of himself now for saying them.

Lance looked a bit dubious, though he didn't question that summary. "And you assumed the boyfriend thing because...?"

"It was the way he was all protective of her. Just, if you'd seen how close they were, you'd know what I mean."

"Mm." Lance glanced over at the French doors; he'd thought he'd seen, and he had, Chris gesturing at them to come in. This little shindig was in their honor, after all; it wouldn't do for the two of them to stay out here much longer. "We better get back inside. You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah." Justin hopped off of the railing and brushed off his pants. "Thanks for letting me talk."

"No problem. Just don't think about it right now, and we can find out what's going on later."

With that, they headed inside to deal with the publicity machine.

* * *

Two days later, a much improved Abbey reported in at the compound. She'd received her pictures back from the developing company, and she was scheduled to deliver them to Greg; although she knew she could have used a courier, she wanted to see his reaction in person, and hopefully get the guys' opinions on them as well.

Part of her was also hoping to get the chance to explain things to Justin, even though she wasn't exactly sure why she even wanted to bother. After all, it wasn't like her living arrangements should matter to him, should it? And she was also fully aware that he might refuse to hear her out. Still, something nagged at her; it was important to clear the air.

She found Greg in the same conference room where they'd first met; he was working on something on a laptop, but eagerly pushed it aside to look at the pictures. His reaction was gratifyingly positive. Abbey had passed the point where she needed praise to feel good about her work, but she was pleased to know that what she'd accomplished was very much in the right direction.

Once that task was complete, she headed over to the dance studio to find the guys. MTV was taping; she watched from the open door as they went over the beginning steps for the title track from the new album. She knew that a lot of work was involved, but she was surprised at the amazing repetitiousness of it. Apparently, when she'd interrupted them before, they'd been working on some of their older songs; this new stuff was taking longer to learn.

Eventually a break was called. The guys dragged themselves over to a couch and waiting bottles of water as someone approached them with some paperwork. Abbey took the opportunity to slip into the room, feeling a surprised little burst of pleasure inside when the guys greeted her with cheerful cries.

"Abbey! Abbey's feeling better, Abbey's feeling better!" Chris got up and gave her a hug. She giggled at him.

"Key word being better, Chris. Be gentle, unless you want me to puke all over you."

"I can take it," Chris proclaimed, but he let go, smiling.

"Are you doing okay?" Lance asked, looking up from the paperwork he was holding.

She nodded to him. "Pretty much. I don't think I'm contagious anymore, and I'm back on solid food. Which I'm sure is too much information," she finished with a smile.

"No, it's good to hear." Lance tossed a glance Justin's way, but the blond singer was staring at the set designs he'd been handed, apparently ignoring everything else.

Following Lance's gaze, Abbey let out a soft sigh. This wasn't going to be pleasant, but better to deal with it now. Stepping over in front of Justin, she said, softly, "Excuse me."

He continued to stare at the designs. Abbey closed her eyes as if praying under her breath, then knelt down before him. "Justin, I don't particularly care if you're going to be a stubborn asshole about this. If you don't want to listen to me, I don't care, but you didn't stick around long enough the other day to let me tell you the truth."

Justin's long eyelashes remained curved downward, continuing to hide his gaze from her. She was tempted to yank the papers out of his hands, but with a great effort, she restrained herself. "That guy in my hotel room was my brother."

He blinked, finally looking up at her. Abbey refused to feel smug, despite the obvious surprise in his wide eyes. "Yeah. My brother. So when you're through making snap judgments, let me know."

Satisfied, she stood and walked away, ignoring the muffled laughter coming from the group behind her. Lance's seemed to be loudest, but she couldn't be sure.

The ensuing weeks were nothing short of hectic. Abbey ended up doing quite a bit of shooting -- not just of the band (who were shuttling back and forth between Orlando and Los Angeles for the Academy Awards, a _Tonight Show_ appearance and a full hour of the _Donny & Marie Show_), but of other groups Johnny managed, both of Lance's artists, and some locals for a few extra freelance gigs. She thrived on being busy; falling into bed exhausted after a full day was more rewarding to her than the few lazy days where she had very little to do. Fortunately, those days were indeed few and far between.

Abbey's relations with Justin remained cool, by his choice as well as hers. She was perfectly content to keep it that way; he'd already incurred enough dangerous emotions in her, and she didn't want to pursue anything more than a working relationship anyway. That argument overrode her thoughts every time she caught herself noticing how nice his smile was or how well he moved when dancing. With the others, she entertained a more casual friendship, though even with them she fought to keep a certain amount of distance. She knew that she wouldn't want to miss them after the job was over; part of her already knew, though, that she would.

She had a couple more trips to New York, as well, and was duly annoyed at her worries that she wouldn't have seen her family before the tour started. Both times, she was also treated to diatribes from Kelly, who wasn't pleased with the quality of her work. At one point, a threat that she might be taken off the job nearly had her in tears when she finally left the office.

She nearly called it quits right there and walked out. Only the thought that she had to get through this, she didn't have any choice, pushed her back to Florida and the refuge of her hotel room.

The night before they were scheduled to leave for Biloxi, the first tour date, she was packed and ready to go. She was used to traveling light; packing everything she'd need for three months was a new experience for her. By seven o'clock, she was set -- _I hope_ , she mentally amended, looking over the two large duffel bags full to bursting with her clothes, shower items, hygienic necessities, books and so forth. That wasn't even counting her cameras, which were packed in their own separate padded cases. _And I thought Mom packed heavy when she travels_.

Abbey was nervous, and she knew it. For once she was considering going out and getting something to drink just to settle her nerves. She rarely drank, even when she'd gone out with her friends; she'd gained the reputation of the designated driver in college for her habit of having, at the most, two beers.

There was a bar just up the street; she could walk there, she thought, and call a cab if she had to. Just as she'd made that decision, the phone rang.

 _What the heck now_? Her mother had already called to wish her well on the tour, and she'd talked to Cat during that call too; Carter had called yesterday, saying he'd try to be there to see her off, although he might not be able to make it due to stuff going on with his partner. Rolling off the bed, she picked up the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Abbey?" There was a lot of background noise, both music and voices, suggesting a party of some kind. She recognized the voice, though; it was Lance.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Hey," he said. "We're having a party over at my place, kind of a kickoff to the tour thing. Everyone's here, Johnny and the crew and everyone, and we were wondering if you wanted to come too."

She heard in that some echo of one of her first conversations with Justin, and had to smother a laugh. "You aren't getting too toasted, I hope?"

"Nah, we don't drink a lot. Especially since it's gonna be an early morning. But we're dancing and stuff, it's always fun. Come on over, Abbey."

His voice was entreating. Abbey found herself tempted. Then the thought of Justin intruded on her thoughts again -- all scowl and downcast eyelids, the way she'd seen him when she'd told him about her brother -- and she felt something sour inside.

"No, thanks. But thanks for asking, I do appreciate it."

"Abbey, you really should come." Lance's voice was more serious now, persuasive and smooth. "It's like a tradition. You're part of the crew."

"Only for this part of the tour," she amended. "Thanks, Lance, but no thanks."

He sounded disappointed as he acknowledged her refusal. "All right. See you in the morning."

Abbey sighed once she was off the phone. _If I didn't feel like an old fart before, I sure as hell do now_.

* * *

Lance hung up the phone, shaking his head. "No go, man. Sorry, I tried."

Beside him, Justin slumped against the wall, folding his arms over his chest. "Man, I really wanted to get things straightened out before the tour too."

"Well, I'm sure there'll be lots of opportunities when we get on the road," Lance suggested, trying to sound hopeful. Justin's face was etched in a certain set with which he was long familiar; his mouth determined, his eyes dark, the way he always looked when he became stubbornly set on an idea.

"I'm going to go over there. I'll be back," Justin declared, in one swift motion standing and making his way through the crowd of friends, family and crew occupying Lance's house. It took Lance a moment to realize what Justin had said; then he pushed after his friend, one part of his mind amazed at how crowded his house was, making for the door.

"Justin, I don't think that's a good idea."

"What, she's there alone, right?" Justin kept walking; he pushed open the door and kept going, Lance in pursuit.

"Yeah, but -- Justin, I don't know if it's the best thing to do tonight. You're going to come off seeming like you're just pushing the issue, do you think that's what she wants to hear?"

Justin paused, spinning in place to look at Lance. Sighing, Lance continued. "Think about it, man, what it'll look like to her if you go over there right now. You want to be all in her face and pushy, even though you know she'll get mad if you do?"

"And if I don't?"

Lance was saved from trying to think of an answer, fortunately; at that moment, Joey arrived from the house, a worried look on his face. "Everything okay?" he asked. "I saw you guys leave in a hurry."

Justin ran a hand through his hair and nodded. "Yeah, it's fine." Shaking his head, he turned to look at Joey. "Hey, if you liked this girl but she kept her distance all the time, what would you do?"

"Find another girl," Joey replied promptly. Lance laughed at that.

"No, seriously, man," Justin said. "I can't get her off of my mind."

Joey shrugged, sticking his hands into his pockets. "Well, if you're talking about who I know you're talking about, then you gotta stop being so intense around her all the time. Be her friend, don't try so hard. You know, try establishing a friendship based on trust and communication."

At that, both Justin and Lance spluttered laughter. "What book did you read that out of?" Justin hooted.

Growling at them, Joey turned around and headed back into the house. "Fine! See if I ever give you any advice again."

Still chuckling, Lance glanced over at Justin. "He's right, you know."

"Yeah, I know."

* * *

Five o'clock came far too early for Abbey the next morning. Half-stumbling into the shower, she didn't fully wake up until cold water hit her square in the face. It didn't heat up, either; after a couple of shivering minutes, she realized that the heat must be out and got out of the shower, cursing loudly.

She threw her clothes on and called a cab, hauling her bags out to the sidewalk in front of her door. All in all, she thought, it had worked out well; she'd returned the rental car last night, cabbed back to the hotel to finish packing, and now all she had to do was check out of the room. The tour's last dates -- at least for this first leg -- were in New York, so she'd basically end up making a round trip and coming home again without leaving anything behind in Orlando.

Abbey was slightly amused at the fact that she had to direct the taxi driver to the studios; she realized that she'd been in Orlando long enough to learn at least her way to Jive and back, as well as a few side routes. In the large parking lot at the studios, she hauled her bags out of the cab's trunk, paid the driver, and checked her watch. _Ten minutes early. Rockin'_. That gave her time to locate her assigned vehicle -- one of the buses, which she'd be sharing with other female crew and personnel -- and get her bags loaded.

That task accomplished, she took a moment to look around. Everyone seemed to be there; most of them were running around in a kind of organized chaos, making sure all the last-minute details were taken care of. Unable to resist, Abbey took out the one small camera she always kept close to hand. The guys were in the process of saying goodbye to their families, each moment tender and bittersweet.

Discreetly, Abbey slipped closer to the groups to capture a few candid shots. That worked until Chris caught sight of her with the camera. Grinning, he turned his little sister to the camera so that Abbey could photograph both of them.

"Very cute," Abbey smiled after the shot was made, "but not quite the effect I had in mind."

"Oh, were you looking for something like this?" Chris promptly began tickling the little girl, who shrieked with squealing laughter. Abbey chuckled and took a few more pictures, then turned to see who else she hadn't caught on film yet today.

"Abbey!"

Carter's voice interrupted her little task. Cheerfully, she waved at her brother, who was just getting out of his car. As he made his way through the hectic parking lot, she ran up to him to give him a hug. Then she frowned.

"Where's Paul?" she asked.

Carter chuckled. "Wouldn't come. He said it's bad enough my sister's touring with a boyband."

Abbey rolled her eyes. "I was so looking forward to seeing him, too," she said, managing to keep most of the sarcasm from her tone.

He heard it anyway, and sighed. "Abbey..."

"Yeah, I know. Sorry." She glanced over to the buses, seeing Randy, the head of the security team, waving at her. "Looks like I have to go. Pray for me?"

"You know it." He hugged her, then pulled away, looking at something over her shoulder. Abbey twisted, still partially in the embrace, to see what had caught his attention.

Justin was heading towards them. His hands were in the pockets of his baggy pants, and a somewhat sheepish look graced his face as he stopped before them.

"Hey," he said by way of greeting. Abbey automatically tensed; Carter felt it, his hand still on her back, and glanced at her with some concern. But Justin continued. "I wanted to apologize for, um, yelling at you before. Both of you. That was way presumptive of me, and I'm sorry."

Carter was quicker to recover from his surprise than Abbey. With a nod, he stuck out his hand; Justin took it, shaking firmly. "No problem," the older man said, smiling. "It was a misunderstanding."

"Thanks." Justin glanced at Abbey as he released Carter's hand; but just as she opened her mouth to speak, a bellow sounded out behind him: "Timberlake! Eldridge!"

"Really have to go," Abbey said, giving her brother another quick hug. "I'll call you!" With that, she grabbed Justin's arm and they ran for the buses. Carter shook his head and smiled, watching them go.

* * *

College assignments, jobs she'd taken in the past, even the concerts she'd attended both for work and play: none of it had prepared Abbey for the mayhem she was now encountering. 'N Sync's long-awaited first concert of the _No Strings Attached_ tour -- supporting an album that itself was a certified record-breaker, having sold over 2.4 million copies in its first week of release -- was, not surprisingly, a sellout, and the madness Abbey had witnessed during the promotional work was nothing compared to what she saw now.

Fans screamed at the very sight of an image of the group, a hundred times life-size, displayed on a banner that obscured most of the stage. Many of the girls (most of whom were in attendance with their parents) had the name of their favorite 'N Sync member painted on their faces or on homemade t-shirts; as many carried signs declaring their love for the band or their favorite member, some hastily created and some showing more careful design. Abbey found it all a truly amazing show of devotion.

She was glad that she'd brought her earplugs. The babble of thousands of people talking excitedly all at once overwhelmed her hearing, pressing in on her senses like a physical weight. Pausing after attaching a lens to one of her Leicas, Abbey dug the small package of earplugs out of her pocket and hurriedly placed the small foam pieces, one in each ear. The volume abruptly decreased noticeably; she breathed a deep sigh of relief. As she went back to the cameras -- two of which were slung on straps around her neck, with the last on a packing crate that also served as her seat -- she mused absently on the day's events thus far.

All in all, the bus ride hadn't been too bad. Abbey wasn't used to long road trips, but her seat wasn't uncomfortable, and she had plenty of CDs and batteries for her personal disc player. She'd managed to start dozing at several points, but thoughts of Justin plagued her, keeping her awake. _Why did he apologize? Why did he have to be nice_? Eventually, she'd been able to force her mind to less troubling subjects and rest for a while.

No sooner had she closed her eyes, it seemed, than they were pulling up at the venue in Biloxi, the Mississippi Coast Coliseum. The stage was already assembled, as the semis and crew had left Orlando yesterday to get a head start on it; rigging and lights were being tested as the group ran through their soundcheck. That accomplished, the buses headed to the hotel to check in and drop off luggage; Abbey found that she was assigned to share a room with one of the stylists, an energetic young woman named Michaela. Then it was back to the Coliseum for the pre-show meet and greet. Abbey was already feeling tired from all the travel and rushing around. She hoped that she'd make it through the show; she was looking forward to collapsing in the hotel bed afterwards.

The opening acts had come and gone, and now, in the dusky warm evening as smooth as silk, Abbey waited for the show to begin. She'd seen a lot of it in its infancy, from choreography to pyrotechnics, the stage and some of the surprises for each song; but she had yet to see the whole thing put together. Then again, she noted to herself, she probably wouldn't have much chance to observe, since she'd be so busy documenting the guys' every move.

Finally, the Rolling Stones that had been playing over the PA system -- to which Abbey had been grooving in an idle way, trying to soothe her racing nerves -- abruptly ceased, mid-"Satisfaction", and the house lights went down. A thundering roll of screaming poured from almost every throat in the Coliseum. Abbey grabbed up her first camera and positioned herself, waiting for the banner to drop.

For the next two hours she was in her element, even as the guys on the stage above her were in theirs. True to her prediction, she wasn't able to actually watch much of the show; what she did see was focused through a viewfinder, filtered through her camera's lens. Even with that shrunken view, she could see that they were singing and dancing their hearts out, their eyes shining with evidence of the joy they took in doing what they loved to do. Amid flurries of pyro, stage antics, the occasional silly stuff and the sweet moments, she saw that they worked as hard as any other band, believed in their work as much as any other band did, and loved every moment of it.

Deep into the show, Abbey finally sat back to take a breather. During "This I Promise You", a section at the front of the stage detached from the rest, and the guys stood on the platform, singing, as it rolled down the center aisle. Since Abbey couldn't follow the platform, she was more than content to sit for a couple of minutes and mop sweat from her forehead. Watching the fans' reactions -- some screaming, some crying, some simply standing and staring in wide-eyed awe -- she was both amazed and amused. _I'll never get used to the way they react. Is this devotion or complete insanity_?

When the platform began to roll back into place, she stood up, ready to catch a few more pictures as it returned. Looking over the guys, she caught sight of Justin's face; he was smiling hugely as he sang, with wonder and incredulous joy shining from his bright eyes. Seeing him was, Abbey thought distractedly, not unlike staring at the sun.

As she observed his clear, unguarded happiness -- a natural and unabashed reaction to the thrilled fans' outpouring of love -- Abbey felt a twinge of inner turmoil twisting in her stomach. Had she, perhaps, been a little too harsh on Justin after all? True, she'd been a bit of a bitch; she knew it, and she wondered if she should apologize for her attitude of late. There was no reason she shouldn't be able to talk to him comfortably, as she could and did to the other guys in the group.

 _Even if he does still want to go out with you?_ the little voice in her head asked, distinctly smug. She growled, unable to come up with a suitable reply.

After the show, drained of the adrenaline that had kept her flying during the show, she packed up her cameras into their bags. The film she collected, placing it in a separate pouch; it would be sent overnight to a developer, and from there, the final pictures would be sent to Jive. Abbey felt confident that a good eighty percent of the pictures were "keepers", as she called them -- high in quality, composition, and so forth -- and that Jive would be well pleased with the results.

Once her packing was complete, she headed out the back to get on one of the passenger vans headed back to the hotel. A small group of girls was hanging around outside, safely separated from the activity by a chain-link fence. They clung to the fence, and as Abbey emerged from the back door, she heard a fierce babble going up among them. Idly, she wondered what the girls would say if she were to tell them that 'N Sync had left the building some time ago -- during the last moments of their final song, "Bye Bye Bye"'s raucous outro complete with fireworks neatly obscuring their exit. By now the guys were undoubtedly back at the hotel.

"Hey, Jimmy," Abbey said as she climbed into the nearest van. The driver nodded at her, smiling.

"How was the show?" he asked.

"Don't know. I was too busy getting money shots of our teen idols."

Jimmy laughed. Abbey had met Jimmy, along with the rest of the crew, a couple of weeks earlier, at a group conference that had introduced new and unfamiliar faces to the existing crew. She'd immediately taken a liking to the driver, an older man who reminded her of her father. He had a pleasant air, friendly without being overbearing, and she liked having that kind of presence around.

The van filled up with various personnel soon enough, and before long they trundled back to the hotel. Abbey felt an intense relief when they arrived; she was too tired to think about anything but crashing. The front doors were mobbed with fans, so she and the rest of the passengers were dropped off at the hotel's loading entrance to avoid trouble. Abbey thanked Jimmy for the ride as she disembarked, then followed the others inside.

Thoroughly exhausted now, all she wanted to do was sleep. Standing in the elevator, swaying a little on her feet, Abbey thought about how lovely the bed would be, how soft and comfortable the mattress and pillows would feel. _Sleep. Sleep good_.

She found herself behind her roommate, Michaela, as they headed down the hall to their room. "You look beat," the stylist commented, running a hand tipped in scarlet through her black hair.

"I am," Abbey agreed. "You have a key?"

"Just going to sleep, even after that?" Michaela asked as she slipped the keycard out of her pocket and into the door's slot.

Abbey only nodded, following the stylist into the room. She'd claimed the bed closer to the window, and now she flopped on it, kicking off her shoes. Michaela laughed as she retrieved a makeup case from her suitcase and went into the bathroom.

"You are gonna be missing out," she called. "The guys are going clubbing, don't you want to come?"

"Are you kidding?" Abbey pulled one of the pillows over her head. "I can't even stand up straight right now."

Michaela sighed, leaning out of the bathroom to _tsk_ at Abbey. "Well, I know a certain blond singer who's going to be asking after you."

Abbey refused to rise to the bait. "He can keep on asking," she replied, voice muffled by the pillow. Michaela laughed. Soon enough, she was gone and Abbey gratefully shut off the light, curling into the blankets in sleepy contentment. It had been a pretty good first day, she thought. Maybe it was even a good omen, a sign of things to come.

She slept right through Michaela's early-morning return to the room, not even noticing the murmuring voices at the door, their half-whispering words punctuated with giggles, and the soft sounds of someone creeping into the room. All things considered, that was probably for the best.

* * *

Morning came bright and early; Abbey poured herself into the shower while Michaela was still asleep, then blow-dried her hair, put it back in a ponytail, and packed up her bags. She was determined to be relentlessly prepared for this tour, knowing full well that she would have only herself to blame if she forgot anything or was late.

Thus it was that she was sitting in the lobby of the hotel, bags ready at her feet, when the band stumbled groggily out of the elevators. She did her best to restrain a smirk at the sight of the fatigue in their faces, the circles under drooping eyes and slack exhaustion in their posture.

With a dramatic spreading of his arms, Chris slumped down on the couch next to Abbey. "What are you doing looking so awake?" he complained.

"Unlike some people, I went to bed at a decent hour last night," she informed him primly. Lance chuckled as he settled down in a nearby chair.

"We had to celebrate the first show, you should have gone." Chris stifled a yawn as he spoke.

"I had to drop off my film this morning so it'll get to Jive on time." She dared a glance at Justin, who was sitting on the arm of Lance's chair. To her amusement, he flushed and looked away. _Oh, that's interesting_. "So, did you guys have fun? I didn't even hear Michaela come back."

"Yeah, we did. Went this hot club, it was wild," Joey stated.

"Well, sounds like fun, but no offense -- just doesn't sound like my idea of a good time," Abbey commented, glancing towards the hotel doors. Two of the bodyguards who had come down with the guys were talking with the road manager, and now John -- the manager in question -- was gesturing towards them.

"Looks like it's time for us to go," JC said, yawning mightily.

"He's gotta get back to sleep!" Chris laughed as he stood up.

Swinging her bag over her shoulder, Abbey stood as well, then touched Lance's arm to keep him back for a moment. Justin was already heading towards the door, the others with him; she glanced at him again, then towards Lance. "Did something... happen last night?" she asked, keeping her voice low.

Lance swallowed visibly, then shook his head. "He just danced with a few girls, I think he felt weird about it because, well--" He paused, and Abbey watched him go a little red beneath his tan.

"Because of me?" she finished. He nodded, and she shook her head, sighing. "Well, it's hardly like there's anything to feel guilty about," she muttered.

"Yeah, who knows what he's thinking." The chuckle Lance tacked on to the end of his statement sounded a bit forced to Abbey, but she decided that must be due to the early hour.

"Well, thanks." She shrugged, re-settling her bag on her shoulder, and watched him escape, with an almost visible air of relief, to the company of the others.

 _Weird_. That word continued to be the primary descriptive identifier for the entire encounter, even as Abbey boarded her own bus, found her seat, and curled up with her book. Just... weird.

* * *

"Dude, I still can't believe you kissed her."

In the main living area of the 'N Sync tour bus, Chris flopped on his belly, PlayStation controller in hand. "That was so uncool. What if she'd woken up?"

"She didn't, so it's cool." Justin had the other controller, but he was sitting on one of the couches, one leg tucked underneath him. Having just finished whomping Lance at Tekken 3, he was now preparing to do the same to Chris.

"Yeah, but it's still playing dirty. I mean, what's the point of scoring on her behind her back?"

"Shut up while I kick your ass." Justin leaned forward, concentrating on the game.

"Kick my ass and I'll shut up," Chris replied, glancing at Justin. "You gotta stop doing shit like that, I mean it. She's going to find out."

"How? Michaela promised not to tell, you guys aren't going to tell her."

"Michaela's cool, but she's got the girl power solidarity thing going on. Sooner or later she's going to regret letting you into their room, you know that. They're gonna bond, and she's gonna spill."

"It'll be fine." Justin's jaw clenched, his fingers moving over the controller to work a combination of moves on Chris's character. Chris focused on the game for a few minutes, finally whooping in triumph when he got the knockout.

"Keep it down!" Joey's shout from the back made Chris roll his eyes.

"Sheesh, some people, just because they get two hours of sleep they gotta be all cranky."

"You only got two hours of sleep," Justin pointed out.

"Yeah, but I'm HyperMan," Chris informed him. "Come on, raggedy ass, try and beat me down now."

The door separating the back from the front slid open, and JC's head poked out. "If you guys are gonna keep up the macho crap, could you at least keep it quiet? Some of us are trying to sleep so that we can do the show tonight."

"Whine, whine, whine," Chris muttered, but Justin nodded.

They resumed the game in silence once Lance had closed the door again, and aside from the muted sounds of the game, all was quiet -- at least until Justin won the next match.

* * *

Touring quickly settled into a regular schedule. Although Abbey found herself weary of the traveling, she soon adjusted to a different sleep cycle: awake until around two o'clock in the morning, an early rising followed by sleeping in the bus -- or sometimes one of the vans, depending on who chose to stay where -- until late in the morning. She wasn't a night owl by nature, but she didn't find it too difficult to adjust.

Michaela constantly amazed her with seemingly indefatigable amounts of energy. Though the stylist was a few years older than her, she acted about eighteen most of the time; constantly running, she often stayed up until the sun rose, but never showed signs of tiredness the next day. Abbey found herself liking the girl, with her devil-may-care attitude, the way she liked to live from moment to moment. Still, Abbey thought, she herself would never be able to live like that. Abbey liked knowing where her life was going, being in control. Agendas and itineraries were in profusion on the tour, and that was just fine with her.

Chris constantly bugged her about going out with them after shows. They were usually hyped and up for a few hours after concerts, and while some nights were spent deflating normally -- watching tapes of the show, trying to improve on mistakes made that night -- as often they needed to go out and expend their energy by dancing and having a good time. Abbey steadfastly refused every offer, chuckling and shrugging the invites off by explaining that she needed her beauty rest.

She still didn't feel totally comfortable around Justin, but she felt like she was starting to get there with him. Something had changed after the first night -- she didn't know what it was, couldn't explain it -- but he was more friendly, less with the demanding boy-girl stuff she'd come to associate with him. Sometimes, though, she'd catch him looking at her during a show, and that old look of intense desire would be there for just a moment -- just long enough to make her want to scream in annoyance. Why couldn't he just let it go?

After their show in Minneapolis, she finally gave into Chris's demands that she join them and go out. He'd been asking her for so long that she was actually starting to feel a little guilty about it; so, with her warning that she was terminally unhip and didn't know how to dance, he dragged her out to the van where the others were waiting.

"Look who I managed to drag along," he boasted as he threw open the side door. Applause sounded immediately from Lance, Joey, and Michaela, while Justin's surprised look made Abbey want to smirk. _Weren't expecting me, were you_? Feeling a surge of strength from that -- damn, she'd do this just to spite him -- she climbed into the van and plopped down on the seat next to JC, who was grinning.

"You look like you're in a good mood," she commented to him.

"I am," he replied, his eyes dancing. "I get to see my girlfriend tomorrow."

"Oh, that's right." Belatedly, Abbey remembered that the tour would be doing a sort of pit-stop in Indianapolis tomorrow, on their way through to Lexington, Kentucky. Ostensibly it was to break up the monotony of the drive, but considering the way JC, Lance, and Joey were glowing, Abbey knew that the stop was really for personal reasons. And she thought it was cool, media whining about girlfriends be damned. She'd personally witnessed the three of them on so many phone calls with the girls that their phone bills had to be horrendous.

Soon enough, the van arrived at the club, and the group piled out and into the VIP entrance. The club's staff had been forewarned of their celebrity guests, and they were ushered to a semi-private table that afforded a clear view of the dance floor and most of the club. A waitress, giggling and blushing, approached the table as they sat down, and spurred on by Michaela's teasing, Abbey ordered a strawberry daiquiri.

"Ah, that's a girl's drink!" Michaela laughed.

"Last time I checked, that's what I am," Abbey replied, chuckling.

"You going to get her drunk?" Across the table, Lance arched an eyebrow; the other guys had already hit the floor to the raucous beat of a Jay-Z song.

"I'm damn well gonna try!" the stylist pronounced. "I think we need -- I've got it, Jello shots!"

"Jello shots?" Abbey asked, dubious. But it was too late to protest; Michaela was already halfway to the bar. Abbey sighed and shook her head, defeated. "I've never been drunk in my life. Help me, Lance!" She turned her best pleading look on him, and he laughed.

"Well, come on, let's go dance," he suggested, pushing himself up from the table. "Maybe you can convince her you're having a good time without needing a drink."

"We can but hope," she replied, and, taking Lance's proferred hand, followed him out to the floor.

To say that she was intimidated by the other dancers already there would be an understatement; Abbey had dressed in what she considered to be nice clothes, but her tank-top and simple skirt made her feel plain beside many of the club-goers who wore glitter, shiny tight outfits, or mostly skin with the barest essentials covered. Biting her lip, she focused on Lance, keeping her body moving to the beat and trying her hardest not to worry about the opinions of others.

"There, see, you're doing fine!" he encouraged her, pitching his voice louder to be heard over the music.

She flashed him a nervous smile by way of reply, and he grinned back. Soon, the song surged into another with a similar beat; Chris jumped in, taking Lance's place as her partner, and she chuckled at him as he moved them closer to where the rest of the group was dancing.

From here, Abbey could see Joey dancing casually with probably his third partner since he'd taken the floor; he was maintaining a polite distance, though, and looked a bit unhappy at the way she was trying to get touchy-feely with him. JC was dancing with Michaela, who winked over at Abbey; Lance had found a local girl who, like their waitress, was blushing brightly, hardly able to look him in the eyes as they danced. And Justin--

He was dancing alone. Abbey watched him, half-mesmerized by the look on his face. His eyes closed, he was moving as if he were in another world, one where no one existed but himself; he spun, swayed, every movement spontaneous and precise, unplanned but evocative. And the sensual look of his slightly open lips, his lashes curved over his cheeks...

"Hey, I know he's cute, but I'm cute too!"

To her shock, Abbey felt a blush stain her face as she heard Chris's yell. "Sorry!" she said, re-focusing on him. "I'm -- I'm sorry."

"Oh, it's all right, I forgive ya." Moving closer, he put his hands on her waist as if to pull her into a more seductive dance. Confused, Abbey went along with it, feeling sweat prickle her hands and under her arms. Chris leaned to her ear, and his words, low-pitched for her alone, were distinct: "You should go dance with him, let him know you like him."

"What?" She pulled back, staring at him. His dark eyes were, for once, serious, even though he smiled lightly at her. "I do not!"

Chris continued to smirk at her. With a disbelieving snort, Abbey pulled out of his grasp completely and stalked back to the table. Their drinks had arrived in the interim; with a sigh, she pulled her daiquiri close and took a long pull from its straw. After the heat of the dance floor, the drink's icy coolness sent welcome relief down her insides, and she sighed happily. _Better_.

Eyeing the jello shots that had been left on the table -- six altogether, each in a small paper cup -- Abbey shrugged, picking one up. Maybe there was something to this getting loose business.

* * *

The sound of a fist pounding on her door awoke Abbey from half-remembered, disturbing dreams the next morning. Blearily, she pried her eyes open, glaring at the clock. It wasn't time to get up yet, not for another half hour or so. She could already feel the beginnings of a headache behind her eyes. Sighing, she put her head back down on the pillow and decided that whoever was knocking on her door could just go away, thank you very much.

Unfortunately, the person appeared to be showing no concern for her delicate state; the pounding started again, louder. Growling, Abbey pushed up into a sitting position and swung her legs out from under the blankets. The headache slammed into her with full force; for a moment, she swam, dizzy, in a swamping tide of pain. Then it receded a little, and she managed to get up, using various pieces of furniture to prop her on her journey to the door.

"Who'zzit?" she mumbled, her eyes half-closed; she tried to look through the peephole, but her vision was cloudy, unfocused.

"Let me in, I lost my key." The voice was recognizably Michaela's warm alto; with a sigh, Abbey undid the chain-lock and opened the door to admit her roommate. Michaela slid into the room, giggling; Abbey closed the door behind her and then leaned on it heavily. Not only was her head pounding harder than before, but now she was feeling queasy as well. _I hate throwing up, please don't make me throw up_ , she thought to whatever deity might be listening in.

Michaela dropped her purse on the table by the door, turning to look at Abbey. "You look like shit."

"Gee, thanks. You look like someone who got lucky last night," Abbey replied, eyeing the distance between herself and the bathroom. If she remembered rightly, she'd left her Tylenol on the counter. Now, all she needed to do was to walk over there; right now, it seemed a million miles away.

"Are you okay?" Michaela asked, concern edging into her voice.

Abbey shook her head -- slowly, so as not to slosh anything. "My tongue feels like a really old piece of carpet, and my head is killing me."

One of Michaela's eyebrows quirked -- at least, Abbey hoped that was her eyebrow and not something else on her head, but her own vision was still too blurry to differentiate fine details, and if it was something else, she didn't want to know. "You got drunk last night, you remember that?" Michaela asked, her voice was full of amusement.

Abbey closed her eyes, slumping against the door. "I remember jello shots. And dancing. And, um, some more jello shots."

She heard Michaela come over, and one of her cool hands pressed against Abbey's forehead. "You've got a hangover, but it's not the end of the world. Geez, you act like you've never been drunk before."

Abbey winced. "I haven't." Some of last night's memories were clearer than others -- she remembered dancing with Lance, then Chris, and then some other guys; she remembered, with a growing sense of dread, slow-dancing with someone, his hands on her back, flashes of a kiss...

"Oh, geez." Michaela's voice was contrite now, her hand dropping to Abbey's shoulder. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed--"

"It's all right. Just, please, lower your voice?"

Michaela winced. "Sorry," she murmured. "Here, I'll get you some aspirin. You need to puke?"

Abbey's lips tightened, going white around the edges. "I hope not," she said feelingly.

She managed to make it into the shower and from there to clothes without having to vomit, for which she was grateful. Michaela apologetically helped her pack; then, feeling a bit more human with a pair of sunglasses to keep the worst of the light out of her eyes, Abbey headed down to the lobby and the waiting buses.

Wincing at the sound of the brakes as the last bus pulled up, Abbey set her bags down with the other suitcases already piled together. She was praying that the rolling motion of the bus wouldn't set off her nausea again, now that it had been firmly dosed with Pepto-Bismol and was slowly dissipating from her stomach.

"Hey, Abbey." She froze at the sound of Lance's voice. Slowly, nervous, she turned to face him.

"Hey," she replied softly, nodding. _Oh please let him be tired or something, don't make me have to carry on a conversation_ \--

"Feeling okay?" he asked.

Abbey looked warily up at him, his eyes made a little more remote with a pair of glasses. He seemed to be genuinely concerned, nothing more. "Uhm, getting there," she said. "Though my head's still killing me. I think there's a steel drum band in there now, but it's better than the symphony orchestra that was playing 'The War of 1812' before."

Lance chuckled. "Well, you might want to avoid Justin this morning."

"Why?" She was genuinely puzzled at that. Lance gave her an odd look when he saw that her confusion was sincere.

"Uh, just take my word for it," he said.

"For what?" asked a different voice.

Lance looked over Abbey's shoulder, winced, and shook his head. "Nothing. I gotta get on the bus, hope you feel better." He took off at that, leaving Abbey no choice but to turn around and face the person who had spoken behind her.

It was, of course, Justin. "Hey," she said, feeling her voice catch in her throat. "Um, morning."

His eyes were narrow and dark. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Like hell," she said, biting her lip at the sharp tone of his voice. "Head's killing me, the usual hangover stuff, I guess. Never had one before, so it's a brand new experience for me."

Justin nodded, sucking on his lower lip for a moment; he looked thoughtful, but determined, and Abbey had a moment to think that she really didn't like the angry look in his eyes. "So how much do you remember about last night?"

"Not a lot." _Honesty, go with honesty, it's not just a Billy Joel song_. "I remember dancing with Lance and Chris, having the jello shots, and more dancing. I don't even remember coming back to the hotel."

"You kissed me."

Abbey gasped, completely taken aback by Justin's statement. "I did what?"

"You kissed me," he repeated, stepping closer to her. "All your talking about how you don't want a relationship, you don't want to get involved, and it goes right out the window when you have a few drinks? What the hell was that about, Abbey? Are you just trying to play with me, see how much of a fool you can take me for? Because it doesn't work that way, a'ight?"

Abbey winced, Justin's rising tone and cutting words intensifying her headache with every statement he made. "Justin, I didn't -- I don't--"

"Don't what? Don't want to go out with me? Don't want to dance with me? Because you sure didn't act like that last night. You nearly slapped this one girl when she tried to cut in."

"H-how -- oh, God, I swear, Justin--" She pressed her hands to her temples, fighting back the throbbing pain that threatened to swamp her brain. "I was drunk, Justin, it's never happened before and if I'd known what would happen, I never would have--"

"Never would have gotten drunk?" he finished, his face flushed in anger. "It's too late to take it back now. But I swear to God, Abbey, you had better never do that again, because you'll regret it, I promise."

"Oh, trust me, I already do," she spat at him. "Don't think for an instant that I would have done anything like that sober."

"So you just grope guys when you're drunk, that's it? Is that what a guy has to do to get near you, get you wasted?"

"Is that all you want from me?!" Abbey yanked off her sunglasses, her bloodshot eyes burning as fierce as his now. "You just want to get in my pants, huh?"

"You could probably use it, you need relaxing!"

Her face went scarlet, then white. "I got relaxed plenty enough last night," she snarled. "Don't you worry, your body's safe from my advances. It won't be happening again, I can assure you."

Swinging around, she stomped up to her bus and climbed on, leaving Justin -- and several other onlookers -- staring after her. Justin punched a fist into the air after her, as if attempting to disperse his own swirling emotions, before storming off to his own bus. Chris and Joey, who had just emerged from the hotel, trotted after him, asking what had happened.

Disturbed now, both physically and mentally, Abbey settled into her seat and fumbled out her CD player from her shoulder bag. She had to calm down, she knew; but she'd get motion sickness if she tried to read, and she was too agitated right now to sleep. She was hoping that music would calm her down. After some debate, she settled on an early Metallica CD; she liked to think of it as white noise for her brain.

Her thoughts continued to roil as the buses started out, security having checked to make sure everyone was present and in their assigned vehicles. _Got to think about something else or I'll explode. Where are we going now? Oh yeah_. Recalling the reason they were headed to Indianapolis, Abbey sighed. The look on JC's face last night, when he'd mentioned his girlfriend ( _Karyn_? Abbey couldn't remember if that was her name), had been full of excited anticipation; she felt oddly envious of the girl. He was so obviously happy about the prospect of seeing her again, and Lance and Joey were just as bad. Idly, Abbey wondered how they'd ended up with girlfriends in Indiana anyway. _Must be a long story behind that one. I wonder if they're the same girls as I saw in the studio, that first day_?

Abbey sighed, resting her head on the window. The thumping of her forehead on the cool glass was oddly soothing, as her headache was finally easing up. _Well, more power to them. If they can make it work, with the long distance and these guys' crazy schedules, it'll be a miracle_.

"Hey." Michaela sat down in the empty seat next to Abbey, looking at her curiously. "You all right?"

"Better than before," Abbey temporized. "Or I would be if someone hadn't decided to get in my face first thing this morning." Interposing a hand between her head and the window, she closed her eyes.

"He was pretty pissed," Michaela commented.

"He had a right to be," Abbey replied, her voice soft. Her gaze slid over to meet the stylist's. "Did I really kiss him?" she asked. She'd been half-hoping it was all just a nightmare, or that Justin was torturing her for some strange personal satisfaction. But Michaela nodded, confirming Abbey's fears. Groaning softly, Abbey let her head fall back against the seat cushion.

"It looked really, um, passionate," Michaela said. "You started dancing with him, and I thought you knew what you were doing..."

"Oh, I'm sure I thought I did." Abbey knew there was a reason she had always avoided getting drunk in the past. Now she had a reason for the future, too, and it even had a name: Justin Timberlake. "Just tell me I didn't do anything incriminating."

"Not that I saw," Michaela replied. "After everyone started -- um--" She hastily revised her statement when she saw the frightened look forming on Abbey's face. "Someone pointed out to me that you and Justin were kissing, and this was after you'd been dancing together for a while. I saw that you were pretty toasted, so I got you out of there and back to the hotel."

So that was how she'd gotten back. Feeling a sudden surge of affection, Abbey squeezed Michaela's arm. "Thanks, I really appreciate that."

"Well, considering it was my fault and all -- it was the least I could do." Michaela gave a self-effacing smile.

"Nah, it wasn't all your fault. I didn't have to have those shots, but I did."

Michaela nodded, and after a moment, excused herself and went back to her seat. Abbey put her own seat back, grateful that exhaustion was beginning to take hold of her at last.

The rest of the drive passed uneventfully. Abbey was feeling almost human by the time they arrived at the hotel in Indianapolis; she had relaxed, too, enough to chuckle at Lance, Joey, and JC. The trio tore off of their bus as soon as it stopped, pelting into the hotel like madmen. She hopped off her own bus, grabbed her bags from the crewman unloading them, and followed the others inside.

As they stood in the lobby, getting rooming arrangements settled, Abbey felt her cellphone vibrate in her jacket's inner pocket. She pulled it out, glancing at the caller's number on the display for a split-second -- long enough to identify it as Kelly's work number -- and then answered the call. "Hello?"

"Hey, Abbey. It's Kelly."

Abbey gritted her teeth. Kelly's conversational tone of voice masked an undertone of annoyance, which was how many of her recent chidings had begun. _Just what I need now, to get yelled at by yet another person today_. "What's up?" she forced herself to ask in as pleasant a voice as she could manage.

"Well, I've got this problem." Kelly made a sound as if she were sucking air through her teeth. "See, I heard that you folks went out last night."

Something cold slithered in the pit of Abbey's stomach. "Yeah," she agreed, guarded. "A bunch of us did."

"Mm." Silence for a moment, as if that wasn't the reaction Kelly had expected. "Okay. So, I'm surfing the Internet today, and what do you think I found?"

"Don't know, Kelly." Abbey fought down her burgeoning fear with sarcasm ( _she wouldn't surf the 'net if her life depended on it, someone must have told her about it_ ), then glanced up to see Toby, the road manager, approaching. "Hang on a second." She took a moment to accept her room key and the number, then picked up her bags and went over to one of the couches grouped by the lobby's small fountain. If this was going to be a confrontation, she wanted to be sitting down, not yelling in the middle of a crowd. "Okay," she said to Kelly. "Sorry, we're in the middle of checking in here. What did you find?"

Kelly's voice crackled with suppressed emotion; she spoke slowly, as if drawing out her anger with each word. "I found pictures. Pictures, Abbey, taken by some Minneapolis girl at the club 'N Sync and friends went to last night."

"Pictures?" Abbey sat down heavily on the couch, sudden dread bursting inside her.

"Pictures," Kelly went on, "of you and Justin Timberlake."

There was more -- much more, spoken louder and faster, but Abbey heard little of the tirade over the roaring in her ears. _Explain your way out of this one, Eldridge. "Oh, I was drunk off my ass and did something I'd never do sober. So sorry, won't happen again." Sure, she'll be sympathetic to that. Oh, dear God! There are pictures of me kissing Justin on the Internet_.

"Abbey -- _damn_ it, Abbey, are you listening to me?" Kelly's words began to register again. "Abbey, this kind of behavior is totally unacceptable. I'm telling you right now, if the media gets a whiff of this we are going to have a lot of trouble. I expected better of you. If you don't start acting in a more professional manner, you will be removed from this assignment. Do you understand me?"

Numb, Abbey mumbled a confirmation. Kelly sounded smug and satisfied as she ended the call. Jabbing at the off button, Abbey dropped the phone in her lap, then leaned back to let her head fall on the back of the couch. This had to be a worst-case scenario. But how could she have known that someone would have a camera, or that pictures would get splashed online so soon? Obviously, she'd have to start being more careful. _Not that anything like this will ever, EVER happen again_.

Sighing, she grabbed her things and stood up. All she wnated to do now was to get to her room, take a hot shower, and avoid Justin for the rest of the day. The less she saw of him, the better, as far as she was concerned.

Naturally, she'd barely situated herself in the hotel room when Chris came knocking on her door. They were going out to dinner, and he wanted her to join them. Abbey begged off, but he was persistent.

"Come on, Chris, do you really think I want to spend time with Justin after what happened last night and this morning?"

"You have to face him sometime, Abbey," he counseled her. "Might as well be now, since you'll be taking pictures of him tomorrow night."

With bad grace, Abbey gave in. She did her best to be polite when introduced to the girls -- who were, indeed, the ones she'd seen in the studio in Orlando on her first day of the assignment -- but she didn't feel up for much conversation, and Justin's sullen attitude didn't improve her mood any. At least he wasn't bugging her about last night, a small favor for which she was grateful.

After the meal, which took place at a nice Italian restaurant that really wasn't prepared for the lively group of pop stars and their entourage, there was talk of hitting a park they'd passed on the way, to play basketball or something athletic like that. Abbey declined, this time refusing to give into Chris's variety of persuasive arguments. She went back to the hotel in the van, thanked Jimmy for the ride, and collapsed on her bed.

Chris had told her about tonight's plans: they were having a party in the banquet hall of the hotel, in honor of the girls as well as to belatedly celebrate Joey's girlfriend Lindsey's birthday, which had taken place two weeks earlier. Abbey had no intention of going, but she took a shower anyway (after a nap that left her feeling very refreshed); and after changing, she gave the television a sour glance. Spending the night laying in bed watching television seemed horribly boring.

 _Maybe I should go down there. Apologize to Justin or something. Try to bury the hatchet. He's had time to cool down, and I feel bad about the whole situation. Maybe if he sees that, then we can reach a truce_. For some reason, settling things with Justin was more important, to her mind, than worrying about what Kelly had told her. And she did feel bad about it; it was her lack of control that had caused the whole debacle.

Decided, she pulled together a slightly dressy outfit of black slacks and a cream-colored tank top that went well with her everyday sandals. After some debate, she left her hair down to fall loose and straight around her face. That in itself was unusual, but she just didn't feel like fussing with it tonight. Finally, she dabbed on a little bit of makeup; then, pleased with the result, she grabbed her wallet and the keycard and headed to the elevators -- all the while firmly reassuring herself that she was not dressing up for Justin.

The party was already in progress when she arrived in the banquet hall. Music spinning from a DJ's turntable had a decent-sized crowd up on the floor; Abbey scanned the dancers, seeing mostly crew, band members, and of course the group and girlfriends. She didn't see Justin anywhere, though, which seemed odd. Seeing Michaela by the bar, Abbey headed over to join her.

"Well, you're the last person I expected to see out here tonight," the stylist commented, chuckling. "Thought you were gonna sleep through the whole thing."

"I'm just looking for Justin," Abbey explained, and smiled at Michaela's astonished look. "No, really. I wanted to apologize to him. For last night."

Michaela rolled her eyes. "It wasn't your fault. Anyway, he's out on the balcony." She pointed out at an open set of double doors; beyond them, Abbey could see a wide concrete patio, tables and chairs for open-air dining set out. At the railing, a shadowed figure leaned out to look over the artificial lake behind the building.

"Thanks, Mickey." Abbey smiled again and headed outside, her nerves jangling all over again.

"Nice night."

Justin glanced over to see who had joined him on the balcony, where he had retreated a little while earlier in the quest for solitude. When he saw Abbey standing there, he gave a shrug and nodded in agreement, but left his Discman's earphones on over the bandanna covering his hair.

"Still not talking to me, huh?" She rested her arms on the railing and looked over at Justin, who gave no evidence of having heard her; his head was moving a little to the music in his ears. Sucking in a breath of air, she let it out slowly.

"Fine. I'm going to apologize anyway, whether or not you can hear me." _Since it probably wouldn't make a difference even if you **were** listening_... "I'm sorry about what happened last night, and I'm sorry about this morning. I didn't mean what I said. I'm upset and frustrated with some personal things, and I took them out on you because you were there. I'm honestly, sincerely sorry, and I promise you that it won't happen again."

Abbey looked at Justin again, seeing now that his eyes were closed. She sighed, turning to lean her back on the railing briefly. "Okay. Well, I'll see you later, I guess." With that, she started to head inside.

She had only made a few steps towards the building when she found herself stopped short by Justin's hand, closing taut about her wrist. Brought about by her momentum, Abbey blinked up at him, narrowing her eyes in confusion. He'd removed the earphones, and his eyes were dark and intense in the light that shone from the building behind her.

It took Abbey a few moments to find her voice; after what seemed like an eternity, she attempted a bored tone. "What?" To her annoyance, her voice cracked on the word as if she were, God forbid, nervous.

Justin seemed to hesitate; then his eyes softened. "I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have exploded at you. You, uh, you weren't exactly in control of yourself last night, and I should have recognized that."

Abbey gulped, forcing down the butterflies in her stomach. Why was it she could face all kinds of adverse situations related to her job, but Justin managed to consistently run her through an emotional wringer? "Okay," she sighed. "So we both lost our tempers. It won't happen again?"

"Agreed." He seemed as relieved as she felt.

"Great." She assembled a tentative smile. "Uh, could you let go of my arm now?"

His fingers gentled on her wrist, sliding down to her hand, but he didn't let go; she felt the tender pressure of his thumb against her palm, moving in a slow circle. Something about the caress -- intimate, familiar -- both stirred and scared her.

"Justin. My hand? I need it to take pictures."

But he wasn't letting go, and she couldn't read his eyes at all now; even the light from inside seemed insufficient illumination. Biting her lip, Abbey fought to contain the queasiness she felt, the way his touch unnerved her.

She was completely unprepared for it, then, when he bent his head and kissed her. Too startled to close her eyes, Abbey stood rooted to the spot, her hand tightening in Justin's. One half of her was yelling to go ahead, enjoy it, the heat of his mouth on hers and the nearness of his body. The other half argued that she should break it off, because she didn't want this, right? _Why is he doing this? Does he really want me or is it just a diversionary tactic_?

A sudden wave of panic flared, and she pulled away from him. His hand still held hers, and somewhere in the kiss he'd taken her other hand with his free one as well; she felt trapped by him, even though he only held her hands loosely in his own.

"This isn't a good idea," she managed to say over the flush of heat that had risen in her.

"There's something here, Abbey," he said; his voice was husky, throaty, so different from his usual speaking voice that it sent shivers down her spine. "You can't tell me there isn't something, between you and me. Don't run away from it."

"No, Justin." Her eyes met his, hers pleading with a raw urgency he'd never seen in them before. "It's not that simple."

"It is." He searched her face, seeing behind her mask for what seemed to be the first time. Justin was sure she had to be feeling it, too: that desire he'd felt from the first moment he'd seen her. "Please, Abbey. I think I'm falling in love with you."

It was the wrong thing to say, he knew as soon as it was out of his mouth. Her eyes grew wide, fearful, and in the next moment she jerked her hands out of his.

"Damn it, Justin. Why did you have to go and say that?"

He could only be honest with her, no matter how it might hurt. "Because it's true," he said, and saw her flinch.

She bit her lip, shaking her head; he thought he could just barely see a sheen of tears in her eyes. That astonished him enough that he didn't stop her when she turned and fled.

* * *

Justin stared after Abbey as she darted out through the banquet room. He knew he'd said the wrong thing, but he hadn't expected such a violent reaction from her. _Don't kid yourself, Timberlake. You've seen her remote act, you knew she'd have a hard time with this_. He'd hoped, though, that taking things a step further -- when both of them were sober and in control -- would be of the good, especially with her in the rare, unguarded mood she'd been in tonight.

Obviously, he'd made an error in judgment. But she'd seemed to enjoy it at first; at least, she hadn't pulled away, had even leaned into that short, sweet kiss. With a mental curse, he ran after her, through the banquet room and out into the hall. He had to settle this, make it right between them. He didn't want to hurt her, and if he'd inadvertantly done so somehow--

At the elevators, he caught up with her. She was jabbing the 'up' key, scrubbing at her eyes and reddened cheeks with her other hand; when she saw him, her eyes flared again.

"Abbey," he said, stopping a few feet away from her. "Abbey, listen to me, please."

"Don't touch me, Timberlake," she growled. "Don't talk to me, don't even look at me, or I swear to God, I'll..."

"You'll do what? Run away again?" He couldn't stop himself, so angry was he at her actions. "When are you going to stop?"

Her eyes narrowed again, sparking with fury. "You've got a hell of a lot of nerve telling me how I should be acting."

Justin bit back the first retort that sprang to mind. Arguing with her would do no good at all. "Then do what you want," he said. "But that's what I see you doing, and Abbey, I can't stand seeing it. I know you hate the idea of people caring about you, but I do, and I want to help."

He felt a surge of hope when she didn't spit an immediate comeback. Her eyes looked distinctly troubled, giving him the sense that she hadn't expected him to make such an offer. Taking the chance, he stepped forward, offering a gentle presence. "Come on. We can just go and talk. Don't you ever talk to anyone?"

Abbey's eyes flickered to the carpet, as if the woven pattern had suddenly become incredibly interesting. She shook her head in negative response to his question; Justin got the impression that she seemed very lonely all of a sudden, and ached with regret that he'd once thought her a cold bitch.

"Come on," he said again. The elevator dinged as it arrived, and he took her hand, feeling again that heat at the pressure of skin to skin, even though her fingers were cold. She didn't resist him now, though she wouldn't meet his eyes either.

On their floor, he led her to the room he and Lance were sharing. He knew that Lance would be gone with Carrie for a while, so they'd have privacy. To insure that, he hung the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the doorknob, while Abbey went in to take a seat on the couch by the balcony. He paused to retrieve a bottle of water from the mini-fridge, asking if she wanted one; after she declined, he turned one of the chairs from the table around and sat on it backwards, folding his arms on the back.

"I have to tell you, this isn't something I usually do," Abbey said, and Justin heard the quaver in her voice.

"What's that?" he asked. "Hang out in mega-pop-stars' hotel rooms?"

She giggled a little, then wiped her nose with one finger. "No, break down in front of people. You should consider yourself lucky."

"Oh, I do," he said seriously. She glanced up, saw that his eyes were serious, and turned her gaze to the scenery beyond the glass balcony doors.

"I'm not used to this. Talking to people. The last time I sat down and had a serious heart-to-heart with someone, it got turned into gossip all over my freshman class in high school."

Justin winced. "Nice."

"Yeah." She shrugged. "So, well. What do you want to talk about?"

He saw the opportunity and grabbed it. "Why don't you want to get close to anyone? I mean, it seems like you don't have any friends, and it just seems horribly lonely."

Abbey winced, set her shoulders. "That's... probably," she sighed, "because it seems like everyone that I make friends with or care about ends up leaving, or I leave them. Like, you met my brother. He moved to Miami four years ago, just after I graduated from high school, which was also after my best friend moved to somewhere in Wisconsin." She put a finger to her lips; Justin noticed for the first time that her nails were bitten, ragged, the cuticles nibbled away to nothing. "And there was my friend Amber in seventh grade, who was killed in a car accident. Drunk driver. And, well."

She stopped there; Justin got the impression she'd been about to add another name to the list, but she just shook her head. "So I guess that's why I'm so protective of Cat. She's my one constant."

"What about your parents?" Justin asked.

"My dad's gone," she said flatly, with a hint of reluctantance. "I... they got divorced in '89. Cat was a year old. They were distant for so long before then, so I guess it didn't really come as a surprise. But I was dumb enough to think it was normal, you know? He didn't come around very much after the divorce, either. My last memory is of him teaching me to drive, which was when I was seventeen. I haven't seen him since the last lesson." Her voice was unemotional, detached, as if the events she was relating had happened to someone else.

"You mean you haven't seen your dad in five years?" Justin exclaimed.

Abbey shook her head. "Nope. And you know, I used to worship him when I was little. I guess I still miss him."

"I know how you feel." He caught her surprised look, and couldn't help but smile wryly. "My parents are divorced too."

He couldn't keep the emotion out of his voice the way she had hers, and he knew it; but that was okay, he didn't mind. As he spoke, his eyes flickered to her, seeing the sudden sympathy in her eyes. "I guess it's been about five years, but I still get to see my dad; he lives in Tennessee, which was, um, where I grew up. They split up 'cause they were fighting all the time, so I guess it's better this way. But I still kind of wish things could be different, you know?" His gaze had turned to the balcony door; now, he looked at her again and saw her fervent nod.

"They both got married again," he went on, after taking a sip from his water. "And it's cool, I get along with my step-parents. I love my little brothers, too. I don't care if they're only my half-brothers." He took a deep breath, aware that he was saying more than he'd intended to; but she'd revealed so much of herself, it was only fair that he do the same. "So I guess it all works out, 'cause if they hadn't split up Jonathan and Stephen wouldn't be around. But still, you know?"

"Yeah," Abbey said, her voice soft. "I do know."

Her eyes met his; for a moment, there was an exquisite stillness between them, the balance shifting, softening into something like a bond created by their shared losses. Justin felt himself swallow, the feelings overwhelming him without warning: appreciation that she understood what it was like, sympathy, the comfort of being able to connect with someone. To break the silence, he took another swig of his water and determinedly changed the subject.

"So, uh, tell me about Cat."

Abbey chuckled. "Well, you got to meet her, though she's quite a bit more voluble when she's not so nervous. I've never seen her mute before. She usually talks a mile a minute and then some."

The ice broken between them, the conversation flowed naturally, at a relaxed pace. When at last Abbey yawned and looked at her watch, she saw that it was almost 1:00 in the morning.

"Good God," she declared. "I should be asleep right now."

"It's not that late," he chuckled, but didn't protest when she stood up.

"Maybe for you, but I didn't get nearly enough sleep last night, and if you'll pardon me, I had a bad day."

Justin pulled his most innocent face, sticking out his lower lip in a pout. He felt rewarded by Abbey's giggle. "Okay, fine," he sighed, his disappointment only mostly faked, and got up to walk her to the door.

There, she paused, one hand on the latch. When she looked up at him, tucking a few locks of ash-blonde hair behind one ear in an unconscious flirting gesture, Justin thought at first that it made her look incredibly young. Then he realized that much of the tension with which she had always held herself was gone, fallen away over the course of their conversation, and she actually looked her age now -- maybe even a year or two younger.

"This was really nice," she told him. "I didn't even realize how much of a relief it would be to just let all that out, even if most of it was about nothing in particular."

He shrugged, smiling. "That's what having a normal conversation is about. We can do it again, anytime you want."

Abbey's eyes flickered downward for a moment, then back up to meet his. Justin knew he shouldn't have been surprised, but he was anyway when he saw the newly-awakened look of starving need in her gaze -- that desperate desire for simple human contact.

"I'd like that," she said. Reaching for his hand, she squeezed it in her own.

Justin gave into the urge to deepen that small contact with an impulsive hug, his arms going around her in a movement that felt totally natural. Abbey came into his hug willingly; he closed his eyes, letting out a small sigh at the feel of her body pressed to his, at the warmth and intimacy of the embrace. Dancing with her last night had been nothing like this: it was nowhere near this close, quiet moment, when he could bend his face to the top of her head and breathe in the floral scent of her hair, the barely musky perfume of her skin. He heard her make a small noise of contentment deep in her throat; that sound almost undid him right there.

Pulling back just a little, Justin kept one arm firmly around Abbey's waist. With his free hand he brushed some loose strands of hair away from her eyes, then inclined his head a little to kiss her forehead. Her momentarily puzzled look cleared, and she closed her eyes as his lips brushed her skin, a gentle caress; then she looked up at him again. He saw the indecision darkening her expression a moment before she leaned up on her toes, her hands sliding up to his chest -- and he experienced a moment of shock, leavened with happiness, when she kissed him on the lips.

He wasted no time in taking advantage of the moment. The fingers of one hand threaded into the hair at her nape, cradling her head in his palm; his other arm drew her even closer, aligning their bodies until there was nothing between them but a few thin layers of clothes. Abbey made a soft, sweet noise in the back of her throat as her arms went around his neck, her hands clasping there; her lips were hot and smooth, willing, urging a deeper response from him. Tenderly, he nibbled on her lower lip, his tongue darting at her inner depths, querying. Her tongue answered without hesitation. The kiss flared, heat sparking into a purer flame.

Justin couldn't get enough of the taste of her. He felt drunk on her, on the delicious feel of her lips and her hair in his hands, her body pressing to his. His heart pounded in his ears, counterpoint to the shallow breaths they took when one kiss ended, before the next began; distractedly, he thought that it had to be the most intense kiss he'd ever had, completely erasing the memory of last night's fumbled dancing from his mind.

Abbey finally ended it, her breath shuddering as she put her hands on Justin's chest. "I should -- I should go," she said, her voice huskier, betraying a definite quiver.

Recognizing that she was starting to get scared, Justin nodded. He felt torn; he wanted her to stay, but he knew that he'd already pushed her far enough tonight, and that had been one incredible kiss. With a gentle squeeze, he released her, running his hand over her mussed hair one last time. "I'll see you tomorrow," he murmured, hearing his own voice shake. _God, she really gets to me_.

She nodded, pulled the door open, and slipped through it. Her eyes, as she glanced back at him one last time, were so dark as to almost seem black, hazy and full of wanton desire. That glance rocked him back on his heels; as he reluctantly shut the door behind her, he knew he wouldn't be getting much sleep tonight.

* * *

 _Oh my God, oh my God_... Abbey paced down the hall to her hotel room in a state of shock, her mind still frozen, refusing to process what had just happened. Part of her had been wondering what that drunken kiss last night had been like; now, she knew exactly how it had felt and then some.

Her feet caught on an innocent piece of carpet, and she stumbled, catching herself again almost immediately. Her mind rushed with confused emotions, all pushing her in different directions; she was frightened of how he'd made her feel, but at the same time she'd loved it, wanted more of the kissing and the feel of his arms around her. She wanted to take a long, cold shower; she wanted to hide; she wanted to go back to his room and finish what they'd started. The memory of his mouth on hers blossomed again in her mind, and she felt a warm bubble of astonishing pleasure swell inside her just remembering it.

She knew that she couldn't go back. Lance would probably return soon, so there wouldn't be any privacy. Was this what being in love was like? Was this how it felt, this crush of emotion, this intense need to be with that person? And how in the world could it have possibly sprung up so fast?

In the end, she changed and crawled into bed, huddling under the covers with her thoughts. Her heart seemed to pound faster every time she thought about Justin: the feel of his lips, the way his hands felt on her back and in her hair, and most especially the look in his eyes when they'd pulled back between kisses. Oh, that look made her shiver all over; his gaze had been dark, dark blue, his eyes narrowed, sheened with emotion both unfamiliar and instantly recognizable: pure physical need. And it was all for her.

 _I'm acting like a teenager_! Abbey scolded herself, but she couldn't keep from giggling into her pillow anyway. As strange as these feelings were to her, she liked them. Liked them a lot.

* * *

When Lance returned to his hotel room, he was surprised to hear the shower running. _Didn't he take a shower this morning_? With an internal shrug, he tossed his wallet to the desk and started getting ready for bed. It had been difficult to leave Carrie at the door of the room she was sharing with Karyn and Lindsey; after months of not seeing her, he wanted to spend every second with her, awake and asleep. But he'd made a promise to himself that he'd respect her, wait for her to be ready in everything they did. She had hinted at a surprise that would be coming in the next couple of months; he contented himself with that, and the fact that he'd get to see her for a couple of hours in the morning before they all left.

He'd changed into a pair of boxers and a muscle shirt, his usual sleep clothes, by the time Justin emerged from the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist and another over his head; he was rubbing at his mop of wet hair with the second one. "Hey," he said, rummaging in his suitcase for his sleep-sweats.

"Hey," Lance said. Already under the covers, he was looking over some paperwork that had been faxed over earlier in the day. "You and Abbey get things worked out?" he asked.

"Yep." Justin grabbed the sweats and returned to the bathroom to shuck the towel. His voice had a suspiciously pleased tone to it; Lance smiled to himself as he caught that note; something told him he'd have to keep an eye on that pair tomorrow.

* * *

The next morning, Abbey slept in well past her usual wakeup time. When she finally did climb out of unconsciousness, she found herself blinking at the whirlwind that was Michaela frantically rushing around the room, picking up her things.

Seeing the clock drove the last remnants of sleep from her mind; it was eleven o'clock, and they were supposed to be leaving in half an hour. With a gasp, she jumped out of bed and grabbed at some clothes, cursing.

"I can't believe I overslept," she wailed as she got dressed.

"I tried to wake you up," Michaela called apologetically from the bathroom. "Grabbed some bagels and cream cheese from the breakfast bar, they're on the fridge."

"You are a saint," Abbey declared, biting into one of the cold bagels before pulling a t-shirt over her head. "Maybe even a goddess. How the hell did I oversleep?"

"Too much fighting with Justin last night?" Michaela suggested, reappearing with a full makeup case in her hands.

Abbey shook her head. "Didn't fight," she mumbled around her mouthful of bagel as she started packing her clothes and various sundry items into one of her bags.

"Oh? What did you do?" the stylist inquired, her eyebrows arched high with curiosity.

To her horror, Abbey discovered that she was blushing. She didn't even have to answer the question; Michaela whooped when she saw the crimson spreading across Abbey's face.

"You got busy with the J-man! How does it feel to know that you're about to be hated by millions and millions of teenage fans?"

"We didn't do anything," Abbey insisted. Zipping her first duffel bag up, she tossed it onto her bed, then ducked into the bathroom to gather up shower items.

"You did _some_ thing," Michaela declared, eager. "How far'd he get? First base? Second?"

"We kissed, all right?" Abbey snapped before stalking past Michaela to dump her shampoo and conditioner into her second bag. "We made out. Necked. Then I got scared and left. And over-fucking-slept."

"Geez, excuse me," Michaela muttered. "And here I was beginning to think nothing could make you stop being an annoyingly perky morning person."

Abbey ignored Michaela after that, but now that her mind had been drawn back to the memory of last night's intimacies with Justin -- both spoken and physical -- she couldn't stop dwelling on it. She was determined to not let it affect her, though; _I'm going to get on the bus_ , she thought, _and just get my mind somewhere else until we hit Lexington_. After that, she wasn't sure; she was making it up as she went along.

The battle plan lasted until she saw Justin in the lobby. Almost against her will, she felt herself break out in a smile at the sight of him, even with sleepy eyes and a bandanna hiding his hair. Her heart seemed to do a strange flip in her chest when he gave her an unguarded smile. To hide her sudden flush, she looked down at her feet, pushing both hands into her loose hair. _So much for not thinking about him_.

Nearby, she saw that Lance was hugging Carrie tightly, as if he never wanted to let her go; it made Abbey's heart squeeze a little to see their sadness, the all-too-real pain of their imminent and unwilling separation. Joey had his arms around Lindsey, a look of loss on his face; and Karyn and JC held each other in a similar close embrace, his arms locking her tightly to him, her face pressed to his shoulder.

"Kinda depressing, isn't it?" Justin's voice close to her ear made her jump; she gave him a little glare before tucking her hands into her pockets.

"Yeah, it is. I feel sorry for them." Abbey took a deep breath, feeling herself go hot and cold. "Listen, Justin, about last night..."

"What about it?" he asked. She saw the look of worry that crossed his face and gave an inward sigh. Her mind had been racing at the speed of light since her hasty awakening, and in the light of day she was beginning to regret how she'd let last night's make-out session take over her emotions.

"I'm not so sure we should... um--" She had to lower her voice before she continued. "You know, the kissing. I don't mind hanging out and talking to you, but I might get in trouble if anyone finds out what we did. I mean -- oh my God!"

"What?" Justin repeated, his eyes narrowing in confusion as Abbey's hands flew to her mouth.

"I didn't even get to tell you, it totally slipped my mind," she said, her eyes wide. "The night before last, when I kissed you at the club?" At his puzzled nod, she went on. "Someone there had a camera, she took pictures of us and they're on a web page. Kelly--" She stumbled on, watching the expression on his face darken. "Kelly called me and told me about it, and she told me that if something like that happens again, I'll be reassigned to another project."

Justin's eyes went dark and cold. "She does not have the right to tell you how to be acting, you're aware of that?"

Abbey shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself. "But if something else happens -- Justin, I can't take the chance. You make me do things, impulsive things. I don't know if I can trust myself."

"It's okay." Justin reached for her, pulling her into a protective hug. "First of all, I'm the one who says who I see and what I do. Second of all, what she doesn't know about won't hurt her, right?"

Abbey leaned against him and let her arms slip around his waist. The impulse to give into the security he offered was seductive, tempting, and unnerving all at once. "I'm not so sure that's a good idea," she said softly. "Though you've got a point."

"Come on, people, we're on a schedule!" They both looked over at the buses, seeing Toby herding various personnel on. With a sigh, Abbey pulled away from Justin.

"See you later," she said, grabbing her bags.

Justin watched her trudge to the buses. Almost unconsciously, he shook his head, resigning himself to the fact that she obviously still had a lot of trust issues. _What's it going to take to get her past all this_? Then he picked up his own duffel and headed towards the bus where the others were waiting.

* * *

"Oh, really? Huh. Mm-hmm. Yes, that's very interesting. All right, Don, keep me posted. Thanks."

In the darkness of her office, Kelly Nivers leaned over and pressed a button on her telephone system to end the phone call. It was early yet, but Kelly didn't mind being almost alone in the building at this time of morning. New York was coming to life outside; distantly, she could hear car horns sounding from the streets several stories below. She liked this particular time of day. While it was still dark and quiet, she could focus her thoughts, prepare herself for the hours of work ahead.

Currently, she was preoccupied with the problem of Abbey Eldridge. Abbey wasn't behaving at all according to plan; instead of producing the expected below-quality work, she'd instead excelled, and her pictures were being bought by every magazine for articles on the group. _That's what I get for not following my instincts. You'd think someone who got their job through nepotism would, by default, be a no-talented hack_. Thankfully, Abbey did seem to be living up to her secondary purpose, if Don's report was at all accurate (and it had better be, with the amount Kelly was paying him).

Kelly allowed herself a smirk. Abbey had been so horrified at the idea that pictures had been taken of her, three sheets to the wind, all over Justin. It almost made Kelly wish that such pictures really did exist.

 _Let's see_ , she thought. _Justin Timberlake is spending all of his free time with 'N Sync photographer Abbey Eldridge, says a source close to Timberlake_.

Smiling at that thought, she turned to her computer and, opening an email, began to expand on her initial thought.


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

All that morning, Abbey sat in the bus, feeling her stomach churn. Why hadn't she thought of Kelly's warning last night, when she'd been all too eager to throw herself into Justin's arms? How could she have let herself lose control so quickly? She'd never have done anything like this a year ago, six months ago, even two months ago. It was Justin, of course; she knew that his influence was corroding her ways -- the habits and rituals that had sustained her daily life up until now.

 _He keeps this up, I won't even be able to remember my name. I have to get past this! I can't work if I can't even function_.

"Here you go." Michaela pressed a small bottle of Pepto-Bismol into Abbey's hand as she sat down. Abbey gave her roommate a grateful look before uncapping the pink bottle and taking a hearty swig.

"Thanks, Mickey. I appreciate it."

"No problem," Michaela said, reclaiming the bottle once Abbey was done with it. She secured the cap and slid it into the rear pocket of the seat in front of her. "So, uh, do you want to talk about it?"

Abbey sighed. She wasn't really in the mood, but she did remember how comforting talking to Justin had been, last night. That brought back the slew of memories all over again; with an effort, she fought them back. "Don't know," she said, honestly.

"Mm." Michaela nodded. "Well, if you want to talk, I'll be right here."

Giving the stylist a taut smile, Abbey leaned down, reaching into her bag for her CD player. "I know," she said.

* * *

"Listen, no. Johnny--"

The other members of 'N Sync winced as they heard Justin's voice rise in tone yet again. He'd been ensconced in the back half of the bus for almost an hour now, and half of that time had been spent yelling on his cellphone. At least they hoped it was his cellphone, as Chris had pointed out.

"He's not gonna have a voice tonight," JC commented, turning in the kitchen table seat, trying yet again -- and failing -- to get comfortable.

"That's okay. I can sing his leads." Joey looked up from the email he was typing to grin across the table at JC, who threw a pillow by way of response. Joey deftly fielded the missile, tossed it back.

Chris, leaning back on the couch with Busta sprawled on his chest, glanced back towards the closed door. "What's got him all upset?"

"Something with Abbey, I don't know," Lance replied. He'd given up reading his book a while ago and was now staring out the window, watching the flat farmlands speed by on the right-hand side of the bus. America was starting to blend together into one blur of green, flat grassland for him, with all the traveling they'd done over its highways.

Justin's voice sank into quiet speech again, and one by one, the guys resumed their previous activities, each keeping one ear perked for the sound of any trouble from the back of the bus.

* * *

"Johnny, I don't see why it's such a big deal."

A sigh filtered through the connection, distorted by distance and electronics. "Justin, we talked about this," Johnny said, his voice edging the line of patience. "Remember? The image?"

"Screw that," Justin said hotly. "It made sense at the time, but that was three years ago and a lot has changed since then. I don't know why they're making such a big deal out of this."

"Because the others have kept their relationships private. Now, I've been searching all morning and haven't seen any pictures yet, but that doesn't mean they're not out there. Word _is_ going to get out, Justin. Are you prepared to accept the consequences? Is she?"

"It's going to have to happen sometime." Justin sat down heavily, one hand supporting his head. He knew Abbey wouldn't want her private life exposed to the world, but this was all he could think of to defuse the immediate problem. Maybe, if things were out in the open, Abbey wouldn't get into trouble with her boss for it. "They're going to have to realize sometime that we're not monks. That we're real people with the right to our own lives. I thought we got out of this when we left Transcon."

"I think it's more that it just hasn't come up, what with everything else that happened," Johnny pointed out. He went silent for a moment, then sighed. "Look, I'll talk to Barry at Jive. It's mostly a matter of publicity, but we can control the way it gets out if we stay on top of it now. But is this really that serious? I mean, I don't want this turning out to be a false alarm."

"It's not -- I mean--" Justin took a deep breath, trying to calm down. "It could be serious, I think. If we have the chance. I just want to make sure there is a chance, before something happens to nip it in the bud."

"I understand," Johnny said, not unsympathetically. "All right. Like I said, I'll see what I can do. But there's nothing I can do about what Abbey's boss is telling her. That's not our business. She works for Jive, not us, and it's their call if they decide to reassign her. I don't know why they'd want to, but there's nothing I can do there."

Justin sighed. "A'ight. Thanks, man."

"Don't get me wrong, Justin. I like Abbey, she's good people. I don't want her to be hurt by this anymore than you do."

"I know, Johnny." His voice was full of regret now. "I didn't mean to yell at you. It's just, I'm so frustrated over this. And it's not just this one thing, but everything, you know? How many times have we had to go all incognito just to go out on a date? How many times have our families had to change their phone numbers and re-plant their front yards? It just isn't fair, man."

"I know." Johnny had never been fond of the policy Lou Pearlman foisted on his pet projects: that the boys were supposed to live in a vacuum, with no social lives, all so the fans could fantasize at the possibility (no matter how remote) that they might have a chance with their favorite. While theoretically sound, it also played harshly, unfairly with the personalities of five very real young men. "But think about this, too: how fair is it for the girls you go out with? Lance and JC and Joey hardly ever see their girlfriends. Any girl you date gets brought into the spotlight, her life goes under public scrutiny and suddenly she has no private life either. Plus, you're risking the fact that some fans are just enough over the edge to threaten her, or worse."

Justin's heavy sigh told Johnny of his awareness of those facts. "Yeah, but look at the Backstreet Boys. There was a big backlash when, who is it, Kevin and Brian said that they were getting married, but now a lot of fans are coming out and supporting them."

"True," Johnny acknowledged. "That does give us a point in our favor. Well, like I said, I'll talk to the label, get with the PR folks, but it may be a while before I have anything."

"Okay. Thanks." Once Justin had ended the call, he leaned back in his seat, letting his head loll on the cushion. His shoulders ached with the stress that he'd been feeling all morning; he was looking forward to getting to the hotel and getting a backrub.

Johnny's implied question hadn't escaped Justin. He wanted to make sure Abbey was worth all of this potential hassle, whether the relationship between them -- if there even was one yet -- would stand up to media scrutiny and questioning, to fans' judgment. Though Justin was hesitant yet to suggest that there was a relationship there, he also couldn't deny that there was _something_. An attraction, at least, and maybe a friendship -- he hoped.

He had to question it himself, sometimes, why he wanted her so much. Maybe it was the way she'd just treated him as another guy, instead of the star treatment he usually got (and of which he had had more than enough). She was definitely pretty, but that hadn't caught his attention so much as had the way she'd carried herself during their first, and subsequent meetings: cool, confident, with an inner strength that challenged anyone to treat her as just another chick. He'd seen her flash a rare smile to Chris at some joke or other, and had been surprised at the jolt of jealousy that had flared in him -- as well as the desire to have that smile directed to him -- and that was when he knew he had it bad.

She was special, that was the best way he could describe her. Her remote demeanor challenged him; he'd wanted to get behind her mask, find out what made her tick. Last night had been a breakthrough in more ways than one; he wanted to learn about her, now more than ever. A relationship -- yeah, he'd love that, if it came to it; but he wasn't going to press Abbey, he wanted it to happen on her terms.

He snorted at that thought. _I must really be in love with her if I'm thinking like this_. Getting to his feet, he headed to the front to let the others know what was up.

"So what's going on?" Lance asked, turning to see Justin emerge from the back area of the bus.

Justin sat down next to Lance, running a hand over the bandanna he'd tied over his cornrows. "Well, I talked to Abbey last night, and--"

"Woah, woah, back up a minute," Joey interrupted. "You _talked_ to her?"

Justin nodded. "Did you see, uh, did you see her leave during the party?"

He sounded a bit embarrassed about it; Lance took pity on him. "Yeah, and you left after her. Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she's fine," Justin replied. "We both apologized for the argument the other day, and I kissed her, and then she got scared and took off. So I got her to talk to me for a while."

"So _that's_ why you never came back to the party. I get it," Chris said, stroking his chin, his voice campy and theatrical.

"So why was she so freaked out?" Joey asked.

Justin paused, skipping through his memories of last night. What she'd told him about herself was private, didn't need to be shared with them; but the relevant information, at least, could be mentioned. "Her boss told her that we're getting too close and that if we don't back down, she'll -- Abbey will, I mean -- get reassigned. I guess someone at the club the other night took pictures of us kissing and put them online."

"What? No way, there was nobody there with a camera," JC promptly said, confused. "I would have seen the flash. Didn't we make sure there wouldn't be any cameras?" he asked, glancing at the others for confirmation.

"Yeah, but someone still could have snuck one in somehow," Justin pointed out. "Anyway, that's not the point. Abbey's going to get in trouble if I ask her out, but..."

"But you want to ask her out," Lance finished. "So is that why you were on the phone with Johnny?"

Justin nodded, relieved that Lance had made that segue for him. "I wanted to see if he could do something about Kelly, but he can't because she's a Jive employee. But maybe we can do something about the publicity, you know, how they're marketing us."

"You mean, so that we can date people without getting the fans upset?" JC rolled his eyes, settling back into the most comfortable position he'd found. "That's not going to happen."

"I know that, but we have to try. I mean, aren't you guys getting tired of having to hide everything we do?"

He'd directed that to the three who currently were maintaining relationships; Joey squirmed a little, shrugging in an attempt at a blase attitude. "It's better than Lindsey and them getting all kinds of unwanted attention."

"But the press is going to find out eventually, and then there'll be a backlash," Chris pointed out.

"What about you and Vic?" Joey asked, challenging.

"Look, it's not a bad idea," JC said, pointedly interrupting the burgeoning argument to give Justin a serious look. "And I understand why you're pushing this. But, uh, I think it would have been nice if you'd come and talked to us about it before going ahead and telling Johnny what you want."

Justin sighed softly, nodding. "You're right. I'm sorry, I'm just so upset about it."

"It's okay." JC reached over and gave Justin's shoulder a light, friendly shove. "You really are serious about her, aren't you?"

Justin raised his eyes to JC, smiling. "You know it."

* * *

Abbey had determined, by the time the buses arrived in the outskirts of Lexington, to try to play things cool with Justin. Her cell phone had remained blessedly silent throughout the trip, so she assumed there were no further problems from the online pictures or her recent public disagreements with Justin. Though they'd been alone on the balcony last night, she knew that didn't necessarily mean there weren't witnesses -- and witnesses could only lead to more problems with Kelly. However, she was assuming, since she hadn't had another call from her boss, no one had seen them. Which was just as well.

She was starting to feel the urge to strangle somebody again. Idly, she wondered if the hotel had a gym. Maybe she could work out her frustrations on machines that wouldn't fight back. _Maybe -- oh, I'll call Cat when I get in. That'll calm me down_.

Abbey's plans to slip off the bus without running into Justin were foiled when the bus pulled up to the hotel behind the 'N Sync bus; the guys piled out of their vehicle and promptly started tussling on the front walk of the hotel. Cabin fever, Abbey thought, rolling her eyes. The seemingly endless hours spent in small moving boxes were starting to wear on everyone's nerves, and the group showed it by getting more hyper as the tour went on. While it was funny, it pretty much fouled her plan.

The sight of Justin, at the moment being carted around on Joey's back, soothed Abbey somehow. Even though it had only been a few hours since she'd last talked to him in Indianapolis, it somehow felt like days had gone by and she was seeing him again for the first time, seeing all the qualities she'd missed in him the first time around: the bright, charismatic smile, the easy confidence of his stride, the way he related to the other guys as if they were truly brothers in blood.

"You're staring," Michaela teased.

"I am not," Abbey snapped, jerking her gaze away from the view. Aware that she was reacting exactly as Michaela had intended, she flushed, and began to pack up her books and CD player.

"Were so." Michaela chuckled. "Come on, Abbey, would it be that bad if you did like him?"

Tightly, Abbey nodded. Michaela sighed, rolled her eyes, and stood up. "Well, you can live in denial all you want, but I'm tired of seeing you miserable. If you don't do something soon, I will." With that, she grabbed her bag and headed down the aisle.

Abbey sighed, zipping her own bag shut. She knew that Michaela didn't make idle threats. _But I'm not in denial. I just don't know how I feel about him. That's not the same, is it_?

Taking a fortifying breath, she stood and headed towards the front of the bus. She was the last off, so she had a moment to stand in the stairwell and watch the guys. Chris and Joey were wrestling now, rolling around on the pavement as if it were soft grass. The others were standing around and watching them, laughing and offering advice; a couple of bodyguards looked on in amusement, apparently content to let them have it out. Abbey couldn't help but chuckle at the pair. They were blocking the entrance to the hotel, though, and she really wanted to get inside.

When it seemed as if the impromptu bout was winding down, Abbey put two fingers in her mouth and whistled sharply. That got their attention, and JC was quick to make use of it.

"Well, the referee's called a time-out, so, gentlemen, please move to your corners," he began in a slick announcer's tones. "We'll be right back with the conclusion of the Match of the Century. Will the Crimson Avenger finally triumph over the Super Dude, or will Super Dude retain his title? Stay tuned to this station." Chris and Joey had given up wrestling by now to laugh at JC, as were the others. JC promptly took his bows to applause from everyone.

Giggling, Abbey made her way through the group and into the lobby. _Free and clear_ , she thought, looking around for Toby; then a spate of laughter sounded behind her, and she heard Justin's voice call her name. With a mixture of happiness and trepidation, she turned to look at him.

"Hey," he said, jogging up to her.

She nodded. "Hey." Shifting one of the camera bags to a more comfortable position on her shoulder, she raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

"Can I help you with that?" he offered.

"Uh, yeah, I guess." Abbey was amazed at her willingness to let him help. She offered him the duffel bag, preferring to keep the cameras in her possession. "I have to go get my room assignment," she added, feeling that that sounded lame even as she said it.

"Okay." Justin trailed her as she tracked down Toby and got her keycard; then they headed for the elevators.

They paused there; Abbey's eyes wandered to the photographs on the opposite wall, critiquing the still shots of various racehorses on a professional level. They weren't bad, she thought, but she was pretty sure she could do better.

"Abbey?"

She looked up at Justin, jerking her head so quickly that her neck pinged in pain. "What?" she asked, putting a hand to the throbbing cord.

"I was asking," he said patiently, "if you wanted to go out and do something tonight." His expression was inscrutable.

"Oh, I -- I can't," she said. "You know that, I told you."

He shook his head, smiling faintly now. "Actually, things have changed since then."

The elevator doors opened, and Abbey raised her eyebrows at Justin as she stepped inside. "Really? What happened?"

He followed her in, hit the button for the twelfth floor, and waited for the doors to close before responding. Then he turned towards her, his smile a bit wider than before.

"We're changing our publicity in the way it's handling our private lives. It's something we've been meaning to do, but it keeps getting knocked to the back burner because of everything else going on." Justin watched her cautious expression, her guarded eyes, as he spoke. "So, when you told me about Kelly, I realized we should do something about it."

"Really," Abbey said, her tone quiet and a little doubtful. "How are you going to do that?"

"Probably issue a press release or something. Johnny's flying up when we get to Cleveland so we can work out the details."

"Oh." Abbey subsided, leaning against the wall of the elevator. Just then, they arrived at the twelfth floor; the doors opened, and they greeted Randy, who was keeping an eye on visitors to the floor.

"Do you really think it'll make a difference?" Abbey asked as they walked down to her room.

Justin shrugged. "Don't know. I hope so, but all we can really do is tell people that we're not going to be denying the truth anymore. We'll probably get the same media problems, if not more, but I think it'll be worth it in the long run."

"Oh, like all the rumors that you and Britney Spears were going out?" Her tone was intentionally casual; she hoped that Justin wouldn't catch any of her underlying feelings. Fortunately, he didn't seem to, though he did wince before answering.

"Well, that one wasn't entirely a rumor. See, we did go out a few times back in '98, when we -- 'N Sync, I mean -- started getting successful over here. And she was getting successful, too, so it wasn't really conducive to dating. We got to the point where it really didn't feel right being together, so we decided to just be friends. And that's worked out, except," and he heaved a sigh as they arrived at Abbey's door, "we do friend stuff together and people see us and get the wrong idea. And Lou -- our old manager -- loved it, all the controversy, so he played it up. I had to tell people 'no comment' or whatever when they asked if we were going out, so that the rumors would get fueled."

Abbey had opened the door by now, admitting them to the room; she made sympathetic noises as she set her cases down on one of the beds. Michaela, it seemed, had been and gone; her bag was claiming the other bed, clothes already half out of it. Sitting down on her bed, Abbey nodded at Justin to continue.

"So, we'll still hang out if one of us needs a date to some function. If we can make it around our schedules. But that's really all there is," he concluded, taking a seat on Michaela's bed.

"Ah," Abbey said, feeling a bit overwhelmed by this. If 'N Sync was no longer going to hide their love lives, did that mean it would be all right for her to go out on a date with Justin? Would Kelly be able to reassign her, or worse, over it? _It's just one date, Abbey_ , that little voice in the back of her head reminded her.

"I -- I'm glad to hear it," she said, finally, "but I don't know if it means I can just go out with you. I really need to check with Kelly first. I might be violating some terms of agreement or something, so... You know, I don't want to risk my job or anything..."

"Sure, I understand." Justin's tone was much more reasonable than he felt at that moment. Damn it, she was hiding again, this time behind Kelly. "But think about it, okay?" he asked.

"All right." She stood up as he did, expecting him to leave. Instead, he stepped closer to her. She experienced a strange, dizzying moment when she realized that he was going to kiss her -- and that she wanted him to.

 _No_! Abbey's mind railed, protesting. She wasn't supposed to want him like this, not when it was so wrong, against the rules-- Apparently, though, there was some sort of rebellion going on in her brain, because she couldn't keep herself from moving into his embrace without hesitation. Of their own volition, her hands slid up his arms to bury themselves in his hair as his lips came down on hers.

His kiss was growing comfortable, familiar, she thought dimly at some point; but it was no less intense for all of that. If anything, it was more intimate, more drugging, as if one taste addicted her and she had to have more of him.

She felt him smiling against her lips as the kiss ended, and blinking her eyes open, she saw the good humor in his eyes. "I've been wanting to do that all day," he murmured, half-against her skin.

"Me, too," she admitted, surprising herself yet again.

"Well, I'll, uh, I'll let you get unpacked," he said, and there was a soft note in his voice that made her want to ask him to stay. "I'm in 1214, if you want to... if you decide to, you know..."

"I know," she said, and smiled fondly at him. The smile he gave her in return made her heart flip in her chest, it was so sweet. It took most of her strength to escort him out of the room.

Once he was gone, she flopped on her bed, her head buzzing. _Oh my God_ , the thought ran through her head repeatedly: _I think I'm falling in love with him_.

She sat up after a little while, pushing aside the recurring thoughts that had dominated her mind since Justin had left her room. She was getting entirely too overwrought with the whole thing; she knew she had to think about everything, but now wasn't the best time. Besides, she had a couple of phone calls to make.

 _Cat's going to skin me alive, and Kelly... I may be lucky to keep my lungs intact_.

Deciding to get the worse call out of the way first, she reached for the phone and dialed Kelly's office number. The secretary informed her that Ms. Nivers was in a meeting right now, but that she'd be happy to take a message. Abbey rattled off the hotel's number and her own room number, then thanked the secretary and hung up, feeling as if she'd been given a temporary reprieve.

Well, it's not like I've really done anything yet. And if she says no, then she says no, but at least I'll be asking first.

She bit her lip, muttered a prayer under her breath, and dialed her mother's number. She really wasn't looking forward to Cat's reaction to this, but figured it was better to be honest and up front about things now rather than suffer the consequences later.

"Hello?" After only a couple of rings, her younger sister's high-spirited voice sounded through the line.

"Hey, Cat."

"Abbey!" Cat squealed. "Hang on a sec, I want to get the phone in my room."

Abbey waited while Cat ran down the hall to pick up her extension, yelling down the hall for her mom to hang up the other phone. "Okay," Cat reported breathlessly once the transfer was finished. "So, what's up? How's the tour going? Anything exciting happen?"

"Not really," Abbey replied, and was amused to hear Lance's drawl in her voice. _They are rubbing off on me way too much_. "But there is something that's happened, I need to tell you about."

"Oh, really? Can I help?"

"Well, I don't know. I, um, you have to promise not to kill me." Abbey swallowed hard, wondering why she was so nervous.

"Um, okay. Abbey, is this about Justin? Did you do something to him?" Cat's voice was suddenly accusing.

"No, not exactly." Abbey couldn't help but be amused at the conclusion to which her sister had instinctively leapt; technically, she was right, too. Abbey had done something to Justin, all right. "See, it's like -- ah, I don't even know where to start."

"Well, what?" Cat demanded. "If you tell me he asked you out on a date, I'll kill you."

 _Gotta love that sisterly instinct_. "You promised not to, remember?" Abbey pointed out drily.

"He _did_! Oh my God, Abbey, Justin Timberlake asked you out on a date! That's, like, the coolest thing I ever heard of, I swear. You said yes, right?"

Abbey smiled softly at Cat's enthusiasm. "Not yet. I might not be allowed to because of my job."

"Your job? Who cares about your job, Abbey, it's Justin!"

"I know," Abbey sighed. "But my job is important, Cat. I can't afford to lose it over some pop star, even if that pop star is Justin Timberlake."

Cat growled in frustration. "Well, if you don't want him, at least tell him I'm available!"

"Sure, squirt." Abbey's voice was tinged with humor, though.

"Hey, so when are you coming home?"

"End of July, there are a bunch of shows in Madison Square Garden and the charity gig." Abbey leaned over to dig the schedule out of her bag, though she was fairly certain of the dates already. She'd memorized them at one point during a fit of homesickness; she was missing her family, her apartment, New York, with a vengeance.

"Cool! I really can't wait to see you again."

"Me either," Abbey replied. Just then, there was a knock on her door. "Hang on," she said, putting the phone down on the bed and heading over to the door to see who it was.

Her visitor turned out to be Justin; she rolled her eyes and smiled at him, especially at the eager look on his face. "What do you want?"

"Well, some of us are going out to a movie. Do you want to come?"

Abbey shrugged. A movie sounded non-threatening, harmless, maybe even fun. "Sure. You want to make my sister's day? She's on the phone."

"All right," Justin said, and went over to the bed to get the receiver. As Abbey dug in her bag for her bathroom kit, she listened to his side of the conversation, amused.

"Hey, Cat! Yeah, Abbey's told me all about you. Yes, good stuff, I promise. 'Course I do. You couldn't get a word out, but you were really cute with your hair up in all those little curls. Mm-hmm. Yeah, I did do that. Of course I will. I'm always a gentleman."

In the outer bathroom area, Abbey rolled her eyes. Knowing Cat, she was chastising Justin to be nice to her older sister. _Where were you when we were fighting like cats and dogs, Cat_?

Once she was ready, she tucked everything back into the kit and came back out into the bedroom area. "Okay, I'm ready to go," she announced.

"All right," Justin said to her, then returned to the phone. "Well, maybe I'll talk to you later, Cat. Take care, okay? Oh -- yeah, sure." He held the phone out to Abbey, who took it from him.

"Hey, sis."

"Thank you so much!" Cat gushed. "You are the coolest sister ever. I'm not just saying that."

"Thanks," Abbey chuckled. She knew that Cat meant it, and hearing her sister's voice in the throes of happiness was what made this worthwhile for her. Cat was wonderfully undemanding, which made little surprises like these even better. "Anyway, I have to get going. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Are you going out?" Cat asked.

"With everyone, to a movie," Abbey clarified, giggling. "Now I have to go. I love you, sweetie."

"I love you too, Abbey!"

* * *

The rest of the group was waiting outside the hotel in a guarded passenger van. Abbey saw that the guards were necessary; in the hour or so since they'd arrived, a small, enthusiastic group of fans had gathered outside the hotel's entrance. The girls set up screaming as soon as Justin and Abbey appeared in the lobby; held back by a barricade of two of the bigger bodyguards, they remained away from a cleared path to the van, though some of them were crying at the mere sight of their idol. A few directed angry glares at Abbey, who just ignored them as she followed Justin into the van, where the others were waiting.

"Man, they're quick," Abbey commented, climbing into the back seat. Either by accident or design, the only unoccupied seats were in the far back; JC, Chris, and Lance were in the middle seat, and Joey was the sole occupant of the rear seat, while Mike had taken up shotgun.

"You talked her into coming!" Chris exclaimed.

"I had to make a deal with the devil." Justin settled down, crossing his arms.

"Huh?"

"I made him talk to my kid sister," Abbey, explained, chuckling.

"Oh, Cat? I remember her, she's cool," Joey said.

"I'll tell her you said that," Abbey smiled. "She was beside herself just talking to Justin."

"Why?" Chris asked, completely deadpan. Lance leaned over to smack him, and Chris cried out and rubbed his head, in mock agony.

"So what are we seeing?" Abbey asked.

" _Chicken Run_ ," JC said, turning around in the middle seat to look at her. "If that's cool."

"Sure."

Abbey enjoyed the movie; it was a good one, which always helped, but she also had a moment of startled delight when, about halfway through the show, Justin reached over to her and gently gathered her hand into his. He glanced at her at the same time, as if asking permission; she couldn't prevent the affectionate smile that crossed her lips. She'd suspected he'd pull something like this when, in jockeying for seats, he'd ended up next to her; but this was sweeter than what she'd expected. Then he'd brought their clasped hands up so that he could kiss the back of hers, and Abbey felt a shiver of warmth all through her.

After the movie, as they headed out the rear entrance to the waiting van, Abbey murmured to Justin, "Changed your mind about the date?"

"Huh? Oh -- no," he replied, "but I knew it would put you in kind of an awkward position, so..." He shrugged. "Besides, everyone was going out and I thought it'd be fun."

"Ah." Abbey smiled. She'd noticed that Justin's hand still held her own -- he hadn't let go throughout the movie, but somehow, she didn't mind. "That was thoughtful. Thanks."

"No problem." He glanced away; she thought she saw the faintest hint of a blush, and had to smile to herself. It was very cute.

The others were discussing plans for the evening, a rare one where they could stay out all night if they wanted; their schedule was free until noon the next day. Joey wanted to go clubbing, which surprised no one. Since it was still light out, Lance wanted to visit a racing museum in the area, and Abbey opted to join him; it sounded interesting to her. She had to chuckle when Justin said he'd go, too.

They stopped back at the hotel to settle on drivers and vans; Abbey laughed, watching Chris leave in a van with Joey, both of them plastering their faces to the rear windows and making smushed faces at the others as the van drove away. JC had opted to stay in for the evening; he had some phone calls he wanted to make, which left Lance, Justin and Abbey to the racing museum.

The museum did turn out to be interesting; Abbey thought so, anyway, as she wandered around the exhibits, reading about famous race horses of the past, different racetracks, and the history of the sport. Her concentration was interrupted when Justin came up behind her, sliding his arms around her waist to pull her gently back against him.

"Mm, getting forward, aren't we?" she said softly.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked.

"Mm. No." She leaned her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes for a moment. His embrace was comfortable, comforting.

"Uh, guys?" Lance's voice separated them; Abbey felt herself flush as she caught the grin on the bass singer's face. "Don't mean to interrupt you, but we have to leave, they're closing."

This time, as they walked out to the van with Mike, Abbey found herself reaching for Justin's hand. And she had to wonder to herself at how much she'd allowed herself to change since this tour had begun.

"So, uh, what are your plans for tonight?" Justin asked her once they'd climbed back into the van.

She shrugged. "I'm thinking room service and a movie. We've been driving around all over the place today, it'll be nice to settle down and not move for a while."

"Sounds like fun."

Lance turned in the front seat to raise an eyebrow at Justin. "You have a very strange idea of what's fun."

"Don't make me go there, PooFoo," Justin said, a hint of threat in his tone.

"You'll have to tell me later." Abbey grinned conspiratorially at Lance. His returned smile earned him a scowl from Justin.

"Oh, look, now he's mad." Lance was stifling laughter now as Justin glowered at him.

"Poor baby," Abbey chuckled.

"Aw, give it a rest." Justin looked a little uncomfortable; she knew that he was used to being teased by the guys, so she guessed that it was her presence, a strange role, causing the discomfort.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'll be good."

Justin eyed her warily. "Promise?"

"Cross my heart," she smiled.

All too soon, it seemed, they were back at the hotel. After slipping in through the service entrance, they headed up to the twelfth floor. Abbey was amused to see Justin trail her to her room.

"Going somewhere?" she asked him.

"Movies?" He put on a pout that wiped away any resistance Abbey might have mustered. She sighed, smiled, and opened the door.

"Fine," she said, "but after the movie, I'm crashing, and you're going back to your room."

"Okay." Justin was far too agreeable; Abbey eyed him warily as he moved into the room ahead of her.

* * *

Brightness swelling against her eyelids finally awoke Abbey. She'd been dozing for a while, half-asleep but comfortable and content where she was; but the light filtering through the white curtains had at last become too much for even her closed eyes to handle, and she shook her head as she came to full consciousness.

Her first coherent thought was something along the lines of _Huh_? When she tried to move her left arm, she found it trapped under something solid and immovable. That realization led to the one that the solid, immovable object was what she was pressed up to, curled into warm arms, covers sprawled over both of them...

Abbey had never fallen asleep with anyone before. Somehow, though, she couldn't help but be amused that Justin had managed to accomplish another 'first' in her life. As she slid her arm out from under him, she nervously checked to make sure that they were both fully clothed, and felt some relief when she saw that they were. She remembered him tugging her into a cuddling embrace last night, after they'd finished eating the room-service pizza; thinking about it now, she remembered dozing during the movie they were watching on cable, although the name of the movie itself was escaping her at the moment. For that matter, she couldn't remember what it was about or any of the actors; she'd been too caught up in enjoying the closeness of laying next to him, her arm over his abdomen, her head on the warm skin of his shoulder.

 _We both must have just conked out_ , she thought, taking a moment to look at him as he slept. He looked innocent in repose, childlike, vulnerable; his lips were slightly parted, and he breathed quietly, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Abbey watched as her hand, seemingly of its own accord, reached out to trace light fingertips over his cheekbone, the slightly scratchy skin of his jaw where stubble had sprouted overnight, the fine hairs escaped from the cornrows to wave free over the smooth, elegant curve of his skull. She could feel the pulse beating in his throat just by touching her fingerpads to the pulse-point; trailing her fingers down his shoulder, she felt the hard length of his collarbone pointing to his neatly-proportioned shoulders, and that deltoid curve following to the slack muscle of his bicep, to his forearm and the slender bones of his wrist, his fingers.

 _I don't think I've ever been this close to anyone in my life_. Vaguely, she remembered holding Cat as an infant, exploring her baby features in a similar way; but this was much different. This was as if she were preparing for a lover.

Disturbed by that thought, Abbey sat up, scooting her feet off the bed. She would have to wake him up and send him back to his room, though it was definitely too late for them to hope that he might not be missed: the clock by the bed told her that it was 9:14. She was about to get up when she felt Justin's hand on her wrist.

"Oh, you're awake," she said, turning to look at him.

"Just now," he replied. "Where are you going?"

"T-to take a shower and brush my teeth," Abbey replied, cursing the stutter in her voice. Why was she nervous? She'd just spent a night in the same bed with him, after all.

"There's a rule," Justin said, with a soft, lazy smile.

"A rule?" She arched an eyebrow at him.

"You're not allowed to leave the bed without a kiss."

"Oh." Abbey couldn't tell if he was kidding or serious; his expression was just vague enough to be unreadable. "But I've got morning breath."

"So do I. Come on, it's just a little kiss."

"O-okay." Capitulating, she leaned across the bed, propping her arms on either side of his torso, and bent down to press her lips to his. He held her head in his hands for just a moment, and when they parted, he was smiling.

"Good morning."

"Good morning." Abbey smiled down at him, unable to resist the charm of his sleepy smile. "Now I'm going to go take my shower, if that's all right."

"Sure." Justin yawned as Abbey stood and headed for the shower. He wanted to take one, too, but he could do that in his own room. He heard the bathroom door close, and then the water started; stretching, he stood up, gathered his wallet and sundry items, and looked around for his shoes. Where had he left them? Over by the door, he saw them, still heaped where he'd kicked them off.

As he picked the shoes up, a knock sounded on the door. He glanced at the bathroom -- no, Abbey was still showering, he'd have to answer it. Looking through the peephole, he saw JC and Lance standing just outside the door.

 _What now_? Justin opened the door to find his two bandmates applauding, grins on their faces. He scowled at them. "Fine, are you two through hamming it up?"

"Just wanted to congratulate you, bud." JC punched him lightly in the shoulder.

"Nothing happened," Justin said. "How did you know I was here, anyway?"

Lance shrugged. "Simple logic. You weren't in our room, I saw you heading back with Abbey after we got back last night, it wasn't that difficult to figure out. Oh, and if you're wondering, Michaela stayed in our room last night. I figured you wouldn't protest her using your bed, since you didn't need it last night."

"Very thoughtful." Justin grimaced, heard the water go off in the bathroom. "So what's up?"

"We were just heading down to breakfast, thought we'd see if you two wanted to come," JC replied.

"Um, hang on a second, Abbey's in the shower." He let Lance and JC in, then closed the door and went over to knock on the bathroom door. "Abbey?"

"Yeah?" she called through the door.

"Lance and JC are here. Do you want to go to breakfast with them?"

"Um, sure, but I kinda need to get dressed and stuff first."

"We'll go ahead, meet you guys down there?" JC suggested. Justin nodded, and they took off.

Abbey emerged from the bathroom a few moments later, wrapped in a towel, scrubbing at her hair with another towel. "What's going on?"

"They're heading down to grab us a table. I'm gonna go put some clean clothes on, I'll meet you down there, okay?"

"All right." She smiled up at him, and he gave into the impulse to kiss her quickly before grabbing his shoes and heading down to his room.

Abbey dressed quickly, twisted her hair back into an efficient knot, and grabbed her keycard before heading down to the hotel restaurant. She was a little worried that she wouldn't be able to find JC and Lance, but the sound of laughter alerted her to their presence -- as did Mike, sitting near their table with a long-suffering expression on his round face. As she drew closer, Abbey saw JC flinch under a barrage of water flicked at him by Lance.

"What's up?" she asked, taking the empty seat next to Lance. "Someone in need of cooling down?"

"He's just jealous because Karyn's meeting us in Cleveland," JC reported.

"Am not," Lance said, affecting a sullen glare. "Besides, Carrie's probably coming out to see us in Cincinnati."

"You guys are so cute," Abbey chuckled.

"Pathetic is more like it." Justin entered the conversation casually, straddling the seat opposite Abbey. JC gave him a dry look, eyebrows raised, at that comment.

"I don't think you have room to comment," Lance noted, glancing significantly at Abbey. Mortified, Abbey felt herself blush.

"Ha, ha, it is to laugh," Justin said as he picked up a menu.

"Well, he's coherent without the benefit of cereal," JC observed, his voice hushed and smooth as if he were a golf commentator.

"You're right. Something's definitely changed here," Lance agreed.

"Could it be? Is our little Justy all growed up and in love?" JC laughed, grinning when Justin turned a glare on him.

"Quit it, you guys," Abbey said. Justin gave her a grateful look, and she smiled softly at him. It was so easy to respond without thinking -- smiling, hugging, kisses that had become almost commonplace (if far from common); that easy way of just being around him scared Abbey a little, but she was learning to enjoy it.

* * *

The next day, they drove up to Columbus. During the day, a visit to a children's hospital had been scheduled; Abbey prepped her cameras in the bus as they drove over, since she had been asked to take pictures for a feature on the visit. She knew that the guys weren't looking forward to this -- not because they didn't want to see the kids, but because the sight of young children who were sick or terminally ill was always heart-rending.

Almost as soon as they got to the hospital, Abbey saw why. One ward had been cleared, making room for the children who couldn't be moved from their beds, while other, more mobile kids were grouped on chairs and cushions. The children's enthusiasm at seeing the band was evident in the smiles and cheers that greeted them; but Abbey's heart broke to see the children too weak to even sit up to see their idols.

The guys made their way slowly through the room, all their attention on the kids; they seemed oblivious to the doctors and nurses who popped up in the doors to watch their celebrity guests. Abbey had taken about a roll of emotional shots when she suddenly felt a stab of guilt. Chris was reaching down, carefully embracing a fragile young girl in a hospital gown; the girl's arms were bruised from where IVs had been placed, a sign of her probably terminal leukemia. Abbey found her hands shaking too much to keep the camera steady as she tried to focus the lens. Taking a deep breath, she put it down. The emotion in Chris's face was too private, too intense to share; it felt almost as if she was exploiting his pain by taking the picture.

Without another thought, she began packing up the camera. They could do a group shot later; that would be more than sufficient.

As she zipped the last case closed, she looked up to see Justin approaching. Though his face was set in grim resolve, she saw the despair in his eyes, and stood up to hug him.

Justin put his arms around her shoulders, gripping her tightly and pressing his forehead to her neck. Abbey could feel his body shaking as he fought the tears that threatened. Her arms went around his waist, holding him close; resting her head on his shoulder, she let him react to whatever had tipped him off.

After a few minutes, he seemed to relax somewhat. Abbey felt his body slacken a little, the grip on her shoulders easing. "You okay?" she asked him in a soft voice.

He nodded, swallowing, before flocking his gaze to her. "This is always hard," he said thickly. "Thanks."

"No... no problem," she replied. Her voice came out in barely a whisper from a mouth gone suddenly dry; she could feel all of him pressed against her, joined to him by the electric connection of their eyes.

Giggling began to sound around them; Abbey broke the gaze to see some of the girls nearby, their hands over their mouths and their shoulders shaking with mirth. Clearing her throat, Abbey stepped away from Justin.

"Your adoring public," she said, smiling. Justin gave her a smile, a look that promised that this would be continued later, and walked over to the girls. The swagger had returned to his stride, she noticed. Hastily, she reached for her bags, telling herself firmly that she had not been checking out his butt.

* * *

The next couple of days passed uneventfully. Abbey began to enjoy her newfound closeness with Justin; in ways it scared her, but she thought that maybe being scared might be a good thing. She'd played her life safe and conservative for so long that she'd begun to forget that acting on impulse could be fun, rewarding.

She'd been hanging out with the guys in the waiting room before the St. Louis show; as she stood up, wishing them a good show, and headed for the door to get into her position, Justin stopped her.

"Hey," he said, his voice lowered. "Do you, uh, want to go out tomorrow night?"

"Just us?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah. It'd be a date." He scuffed a foot on the carpet, looking up at her from under the brim of the hat he wore during the first number; his eyes were sweet, endearing.

"Okay." The word came out of her mouth before she could even think about it. Justin gave her a grin, and she smiled back at him, feeling an odd bubble of breathlessness in her chest, before he headed back to the guys to start their pre-show rituals.

Heart pounding, Abbey left the room and steered for the press area, her body moving on auto-pilot. _I'm going out on a date. With Justin. What's wrong with me? I should never have let it get this far. I was supposed to say no. I can't wait until tomorrow night. Am I out of my mind_?

She had to shove her turmoiled thoughts aside during the show to focus on the pictures, but every time she brought the lens to bear on Justin, she remembered again how his eyes had looked when he'd asked her. It didn't help that he glanced at her several times during the show, winking and smiling at different points, and his gaze rested on her for a few lines of "This I Promise You".

 _I still don't believe in promises. I don't_!

Apparently word had spread quickly. When she returned to the hotel room after the show, Michaela leaned out of the bathroom area -- where she was putting on makeup for the evening's festivities -- to grin at her. "Congratulations!"

"Thanks." Abbey's tone was only mildly sarcastic. She'd heard this from enough of the crew now that it was starting to get a bit annoying.

"What, you're not excited? I thought you liked him."

"I -- I do like him." It was the first time she'd admitted it out loud, and briefly she was amazed that her feelings for him had made such a thorough turnaround in what seemed such a short period of time.

"Well, when we get in tomorrow, I'm gonna take you out and get a haircut and a makeover. Maybe hit a nail salon, too." Michaela strode out into the bedroom area, reaching for the high-tech sneakers she'd tossed on her bed earlier. "And don't give me that look. You need a girly day."

Abbey sighed, letting the annoyed look on her face lapse. "Slavedriver," she muttered as she dug through her bag for her nightshirt.

"You know it," Michaela replied smugly. "Do you need clothes?"

"He said slacks would be fine. I have a few nice outfits."

"Mm. Well, we'll see." Once she had finished putting on her shoes, Michaela grabbed her keycard and purse. "Don't wait up for me!" she called as she headed out the door.

"Never happen," Abbey told the door closing behind her roommate.

* * *

Approximately eighteen hours later, Justin stood in the lobby of the Cleveland Ritz-Carlton, pacing before the elevators. He'd told Abbey to be there at 6:30, and it was almost twenty to seven now. She was late. Maybe she wasn't coming. He paused in front of a mirror hung between the elevators, checking his appearance as he'd already done a hundred times. He'd worn a dress shirt and slacks in neutral colors, keeping it low-key; tonight wasn't about being flashy or showing off.

Finally, one of the elevator's doors slid open; Justin turned to see who it was, as he'd already had a few false alarms. Fortunately, Mike was standing nearby in case any problems occurred.

Abbey stepped out of the elevator. She was tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and when she looked up and smiled at him, Justin's jaw dropped.

He'd never seen her in real, full-out makeup before, since she usually only wore a little foundation. The effect was subtle, yet at the same time her face seemed thoroughly transformed, shimmering with a soft glamour. A few strands of hair framed her face; the rest had been pulled up in a twist that turned back on itself along the back of her head, tucking under at the nape, the whole thing like something a movie star from the forties might wear.

Abbey's shoulders were bare, revealed by a spaghetti-strapped top in rich violet. Justin took in her whole outfit -- black slacks, sandal-styled heels that showed off her slender feet, as well as the light jacket over one arm and the small black purse clutched in the opposite hand -- before he finally managed to wrench his jaw back into place. Hoarsely, honestly, he said, "You look amazing."

She smiled softly, her eyes flicking downward in acknowledgement. "Thanks. So do you."

Justin managed to get himself under control ( _but damn_ , he thought, _she looks incredible_ ), offering his arm. Abbey took it as she gave him a curious glance. "So where are we headed?" she asked.

"It's a surprise," he told her, smiling.

She slanted him a guarded look, but didn't protest as he took her outside, where a limousine was pulled up to the curb at the front doors. The driver was already waiting with the door open, and Justin handed Abbey into the limo as easily as if he'd been doing so all his life. (Which, she reflected, probably wasn't far from the truth.)

Abbey took comfort in being able to engage in small talk with Justin during the limo ride. She told him about her day, how Michaela had dragged her from hair salon to makeup department to nail salon -- at this last, she held up one hand, fingers newly tipped in a set of evenly trimmed and painted fingernails -- and how the hairstylist had laughed when told who Abbey's date for the evening was.

"She didn't believe you?" Justin asked, pretending to be horrified at the hairstylist's disbelief.

"Thought I was delusional." Abbey laughed. "And Michaela's behind me telling the lady to just humor me, I hadn't had my meds yet--" She rolled her eyes as Justin laughed. "She's pure evil, I tell you."

"You know, she's been with us since our first tour. She's a trip."

"I know," Abbey said, stonefaced. Justin laughed again.

Eventually, the limo pulled up into the curving driveway of a large building whose front face was styled in a tasteful art deco look. Lights mounted on the lawn picked out large letters on the overhang that spelled out the name "Cloud Nine Ballroom".

"Where in the world..?" Abbey said softly, turning her gaze from the letters to Justin.

"Don't lose your nerve now," he replied, seeing her confusion as hesitation, possibly even nervousness.

Her eyes held a dubious look, but she allowed him to help her out of the limo without a fuss. Together, her arm tucked into his, they walked into the building.

The ballroom was already in full swing, the wide dance floor thick with couples moving and shaking. On the stage, a full orchestra belted out a classic Louis Prima tune, setting the air alive with shimmering, vibrant music. The musicians themselves seemed to be having as good a time as those they entertained; many of them stood to deliver their parts in the song, their heads nodding in time.

The dining area was also crowded, and for a moment Abbey worried that there might be a problem; but a glance told her that most of the people her were their age or older, not as likely to cause a riot over the fact that a member of 'N Sync was in their midst.

They were escorted to an out-of-the-way table by the hostess, an older lady who winked at Justin as she handed out their menus. Justin gave her a polite smile, but rolled his eyes after she was gone.

"Hm, I think she was coming on to you, Justin," Abbey noted, chuckling. "Can't say I blame her."

"She's old enough to be my mom," he said, looking disgusted and running a hand over his hair. He'd had the cornrows taken out tonight, and after so long with them in, his hair felt strange to him.

"Okay, just ignore the fact that I gave you a compliment, there," Abbey teased.

"Oh, sorry. Thank you," Justin replied with cool dignity. "Now, as I was saying..."

Abbey hadn't expected to enjoy the evening as much as she did. Dinner was delicious, and her company most enjoyable. She was immensely grateful that she'd taken a dance class during college, dragged by a friend who didn't want to go alone; as the moves came back to her, she managed to acquit herself creditably enough to draw a compliment from Justin. They were approached by a couple of autograph seekers, but in each case Justin handled them with polite charm and sent them off with the autograph with a minimum of fuss.

She wasn't sure how long they'd been dancing, but when they went back to the table to refresh themselves with some water, Abbey found herself yawning into her glass.

"Tired?" Justin asked.

Abbey covered her mouth, nodded, waiting for the yawn to pass before speaking. "Unfortunately, yeah. I never got any sleep after we got on the buses this morning."

"Well, we can go back," he offered, sympathetic.

"I _am_ really enjoying this," she said, with a regretful tone. "But yeah, I am starting to get worn out."

"Okay." Justin rose easily, came around to pull Abbey's chair out for her, and took her hand as they headed out to the waiting limo.

* * *

Abbey's exhaustion showed more during the ride back to the hotel; she leaned on Justin's shoulder, her eyes half-closed, as soon as he had pulled the door shut. Obliging, he re-settled himself with one arm around her, letting her cuddle to him. It was definitely a sign that she'd allowed herself to trust him, so easily did she lean into his proffered comfort without a thought.

"Stay awake," he murmured to her. "We still have to walk you to your room."

"Uh-uh. Don't wanna," she said, petulant as a child. Amused, and feeling incredibly tender towards her, Justin let her doze until the limo pulled up at the hotel's doors.

"Come on, Abbey," he said once they'd arrived. "Time to go upstairs." Gently, he shook her until she blinked up at him. Her hair was tousled, her eyes sleep-glazed still, and her lips slightly parted; the elements combined into an unknowingly seductive whole that made Justin suck in a short breath. He fought down the impulse; he couldn't attack her in the limo. "Abbey," he said again.

"'M awake," she mumbled, blinking, and raked a hand over her hair, partially dislodging the complex hairstyle. The effect was devastating. _Maybe no one will notice if we stay out here_ , Justin thought to himself, then ruthlessly quashed the thought.

Walking through the halls of the hotel seemed to revive Abbey to some extent; when they reached her room, she found her keycard right away. Opening the door, she peered inside to see if Michaela was present.

"No roommate. Come on," she invited him.

"Are you sure?" he asked. Though this particular line had already been crossed, tonight felt different, unfamiliar, as though he'd be stepping past the point of no return if he followed her in.

Abbey slanted him a dark, intense look from underneath her long lashes, one that made his breathing stop for a moment. "Don't you want a goodnight kiss?" she asked.

Justin needed no further encouragement, stepping into the room after her with all due haste. Abbey tossed the purse and jacket onto the bathroom counter; then she turned, moved close to Justin, and wound her fingers into his shirt's collar.

She made a small whimper as she kissed him, as he gathered her body close to his. She was warm, soft, the scent of her floral and utterly feminine; he ran a hand over her hair, finding the source of the twist and pulling it loose. Her hair flowed over his fingers in a silken wave. He couldn't keep himself from groaning into her mouth as she pressed herself closer to him, her pelvis grinding against his.

Her mouth was hot and sweet; her tongue darted into his mouth, dipping and tasting, then pushing deep. He reciprocated the invasion, giving her his tongue in return, and was rewarded by the plaintive, mewling noises she made.

Dimly, he was aware that they were both panting shallowly, that the room seemed several degrees warmer, and that if they didn't soon stop, he would end up doing something he might regret. But it was getting harder to think, what with more blood every second being diverted to his groin, and her hands were exploring his back, groping--

"Abbey," he managed to say on an explosive breath.

"Yeah?" She looked up at him, pausing; she'd been nibbling on his earlobe, a sensation that was doing wonders for his state of arousal. His voice sounded strange, hoarse, even to him.

His mind raced. "Uh, maybe we should go sit down."

"All right." She took his hand, led him over to the bed; he tucked one leg under the other as he sat, leaning against the headboard, to face her. She easily sat in the triangle formed between his knee and the other leg, resting her hands on his calves.

He took a deep breath, composing his thoughts for a moment. Then he looked at her, watching her face, dim in the darkened room. "Are you... um... are you sure about this?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, managing to sound almost innocent.

"Look," he said, "if you keep kissing me like that, I'm going to think that you're not going to want to stop."

"I don't," she replied. Her eyes were serious now, her face clear and determined. "I thought about it, what might happen, and I'm... I'm okay with it."

"'Okay with it'?" he quoted back. "You don't sound enthusiastic."

"No, I am, believe me." Her fingers curled around his lower leg, the one pressed to the bed; he felt the electric touch as they caressed the calf muscle. "I just... it occurred to me today that this is something I like, being with you, and it's something I want to grab onto and hold for as long as I can."

"You're sure?" he said, feeling the need to confirm it. It wasn't that he wasn't happy about it -- if anything, he wanted to jump up and down and shout, or start kissing her all over again and damn the consequences -- but her attitude was so changed, so quickly, that he would have guessed her to be drunk had he not witnessed her drinking water all night.

"I'm very sure." Abbey got to her knees, pushed his legs apart, and moved in between them, planting her hands on the headboard, one on either side of him. Her eyes still bore that sultry gaze, but there was also a winsome look in them, and maybe even a little bit of fear. That was what got to him, more than anything else; she was still scared, after all this time, that he might reject her.

Without further thought, he put his arms around her and kissed her.

When Justin urged Abbey gently to her back, she didn't resist; she'd learned from him to relinquish control, and she trusted him. His kisses were languid, full of smoky passion, and they sent electric shivers through her when he let them wander down her jawbone to nuzzle at her throat's soft skin.

Wanting to return the feelings in some way, she dragged her fingertips along his back, feeling, beneath the shirt's thin cotton, the hard muscles of his lean back. He held himself over her, resting on one elbow, his lower body to her side; she could feel the body heat radiating off him with the strength of a furnace. His free hand toyed with her hair, smoothed it back, then began a slow journey down her neck to her side and stomach.

He found her sensitive spots easily; his lips on her earlobe made her shudder, his breath in her ear giving her tingles. When he caressed her side, she giggled involuntarily.

"Oh, ticklish, huh?" he said, and she saw a predatory gleam in his eyes.

"N-no, just--" She didn't even have time to finish squeaking her denial before he descended on her with both hands, ruthlessly exploiting the sensitivity of her sides until she screamed with laughter.

"Y-you're awful!" she accused him when he finally relented and she had breath to talk again.

He'd rolled to his side, grinning with a certain smugness. "And you love it."

That made her eyes go serious. Justin caressed her cheek with a light hand. "Abbey?" he asked.

She bit her lip, looked at him. "Yeah," she said softly. "I think I do."

He didn't push, knowing that the admission had undoubtedly cost her. Instead, he put his hands around her waist and pulled her close, so that they both lay on their sides, facing each other. She took the cue, her hands sliding along his back to find the waistband of his slacks; as she kissed him, quick, breath-stealing kisses, her fingers dipped into his waistband to discover and pull out the hem of his shirt.

Justin was more careful about his touch now, letting his palms slide over her back; her body shuddered in tiny motions when he trailed his fingers down her spine, giving him a hint of the sensitivity of her skin there. He gently tugged her shirt out from where it was tucked into her pants, wanting to feel the hot skin of her midriff against him.

Once that was accomplished, he slid his fingers under the shirt, tracing curves on the smooth skin of her back. Abbey whimpered softly, pressed closer to him, instinctively aligning their bodies like to like. There was an innocence in her urgent, hungered response that surprised Justin. Then again, he supposed that it made sense.

"Is this all right?" he asked softly, giving her shirt a soft yank. She smiled by way of answer, getting to her knees to pull it over her head in one swift move; it landed in a puddle of purple on the floor, and Justin chuckled at her pleased smile.

"Your turn," she said, so he shrugged and unbuttoned his own shirt, fingers fumbling a little on the buttons. It was off in short measure; Abbey laid back down again, her hands moving over his chest with a bold eagerness that suggested she had been thinking about a moment like this longer than he'd thought. He sucked in a breath when her fingertips rubbed over his nipples, but he didn't miss the surprised look in her eyes at his reaction.

"I didn't know guys liked that," she told him, smiling.

His eyes narrowed. "Have you been with anyone before?" he asked, doing his best to repress any tone of concern.

"Oh, yeah, but -- well, I mean--" Abbey sighed. "It was in my freshman year in college. I thought the guy really cared about me, but I was way off. Anyway, he wasn't much for the foreplay. So there really wasn't a lot I learned."

Justin saw the babbling as nerves, but there was something pathetic about the way she tried to make the relationship sound so casual; she didn't do casual relationships. "Did he hurt you?" he asked, pressing a hand to one cheek when she didn't look him in the eye.

She shook her head. "No, he, he just wasn't very good in bed. So... I had to find out that -- look, I, I don't want to talk about this right now," she interrupted herself. "Not tonight."

Sighing, Justin relented. "All right. But tomorrow, later," he promised. Abbey nodded.

Kissing again, more intense this time; Justin laid back, pulled Abbey atop him, the easier to caress her back. She explored his neck with her lips at the same time, letting herself discover his body heat, the sensitive skin of his clavicle and neck. A thrill went through her when she bent her mouth to one of his nipples and he groaned openly, one of his hands burying itself in her hair.

His fingers found the clasp of her bra, opened it; she pushed up a bit to free her arms and divest herself of the garment, and Justin reveled in the sight of her for that moment: her cheeks were flushed, her attitude uninhibited, a gleam of desire in her eyes. Then he ran his hands up her sides, drawing her down to him again.

Abbey twined her fingers into Justin's hair, sighing softly as his hands slid over her breasts. She'd felt a twinge of fear at the unveiling, as it were, fully aware that she was possibly less than what he'd expected or what he usually liked; but he didn't seem to notice or mind. His touch was gentle at first, giving her shivers when his fingertips brushed the undersides; then it grew firmer, bolder, thumbs caressing her nipples to bring them to instant peaks. Then his mouth covered one nipple, and her world went away for a moment.

"Ahhh," she breathed out, her eyes closing against her will. "That's good."

"Good," he murmured, smiling against her skin; the tremble of his voice fluttered on her delicate flesh, and she thought she might die from the aching hardness of her nipples -- not to mention the increasing heat she was feeling in a steady throb between her legs. She could feel one of his hands on her other breast; his fingertips did things she couldn't even name, teasing out sensations that ran straight through to the core of her.

Her hands had taken on a life of their own, moving in steady, rhythmic patterns up and down his back; Abbey liked the growl she got out of Justin when she scratched her fingernails up into his hair -- lightly, as if she were assuaging an inch. Goosebumps rose behind her fingers, so she figured she was getting a good reaction. On impulse, she ran her hands down to try to grab his butt; her hands stopped at his waist, however, since his head was down at the level of her breasts.

"You know," she said softly, hearing the unusual huskiness in her voice, "I think we both still have too many clothes on."

Justin looked up at her over the peak of her nipple, eyebrows raised. "Where did that come from?"

She raised an eyebrow of her own, smiling, amused. "What, you have a problem with it?"

"No, not at all, it's just..." He paused, getting up to prop himself over her. "Unexpected, is all, I guess."

Abbey pouted, though her eyes still gleamed. "Well, if you _don't_ want to get naked..."

Justin smiled a little, bent down to give her a quick kiss, and then stood up. Abbey reached out her hands, inviting him to pull her up; he did, and she came up suddenly, giggling when she nearly collapsed against him. He couldn't resist pulling her against him, the feel of their bodies against each other, naked to the waist, thrilling and delicious. Abbey took the opportunity to squeeze his rear, grinning at his shocked look.

"Miss Eldridge, would you stop groping me!" he gasped, pretending to be aghast, shocked. "It's so unseemly."

"Oh, you love it, now shut up and let me molest you." Now that they were aligned again, she could feel the hard heat of his erection pressing into her abdomen. Feeling that, something hot sunk into her, as if just thinking of the fact that he was hard because of her was even more of a turn-on; she wriggled against him, giggling, drunk on the experience of this -- the heat and pounding heart and blood rushing through her veins. Impulsive, she tugged at the fly of his slacks, but her fingers were shaking and she couldn't open them. Justin pulled them off instead, while she took off her pants, kicking them aside.

Standing alone, even for a moment, Abbey began to feel the vulnerability of her position. Almost without realizing, she wrapped her arms around herself.

"Cold?" Justin asked, and she nodded; he knew she wasn't, and she knew it too, but it was a gesture that she appreciated nonetheless. "Get in bed, I'll be right there."

She raised an eyebrow, but did as he said, sliding under the covers while he went and shut off the lights. So that they wouldn't be ensconced in total darkness, he left the bathroom light on; its illumination cast a gentle glow to one side of the room. Then Justin came back to the bed, pulling back the covers and laying down next to her. Abbey cuddled to him easily, sighing at the feel of his smooth, hot skin against hers. Under the covers, it was as if they were in their own little world, a nest made for just the two of them.

Abbey closed her eyes, forcing herself to relax once again. Every time they paused in any way, it made her tense up again, as if she was being brought back to a world that reminded her of all the responsibilities she'd rather forget. Justin's hands were doing a wonderful job of helping her to escape once again, though; they slid over her breasts, her back, her shoulders, down to her thighs and trailing fingertips up to explore further.

Shuddering, she opened her legs and let him explore. Her breath was fast and shallow now, and she clutched at his back when his fingers slipped into her panties; they found the slick moistness that had been building up since their first kiss that evening -- a kiss that seemed to have happened eons ago, now -- then Justin slipped a finger up inside her, and Abbey let out an explosive breath that ended on his name. She didn't even know what he was doing now, but God, it felt wonderful, his fingers slippery inside her, moving and sliding, sharp sensation centered right there -- she writhed on his hand, aching, moaning in short soft cries, and when she opened her eyes to meet his, she saw a lust in his eyes that equaled the desire thrumming through her own body.

"I'd say are you ready, but that sounds like a stupid question," he whispered, his hand stilling for a moment inside her.

"If you don't... if..." She couldn't even come up with a suitable threat. Fortunately, she didn't have to; Justin was ahead of the game, quickly slipping her panties off and then removing his boxer briefs. Her hand went to him in an instant, feeling the rock-hardness of him, and she gave an involuntary gasp when she imagined what that would feel like inside of her. Justin's gasp at the same moment was sudden, harsh, making Abbey chuckle as she realized her own power over him.

"Come on," she breathed. He needed no more urging; pausing long enough to scrabble in the nightstand drawer for a condom, he ripped the wrapper open and pulled it on. Then he placed himself over her, bracing himself on knees and hands; she angled her hips, opening her knees wider, reaching for him so that she could guide him in. And then he was sliding into her, hot and hard as marble and burying himself to the hilt; he bore his weight on his hands, but Abbey pulled him down, wanting to feel all of him against her.

She couldn't believe how good it was, every moment, just feeling his erection sliding in and out of her slick, wet core; but more, his kisses, his tongue hot in her mouth, his hand slipping over her breast, stimulating her already-stiff nipple. And the sensation of his back under her fingers, the way she could scratch him and get an even more intense reaction out of him; it was all too much.

Justin knew he wouldn't be able to hold back for long; Abbey was incredibly responsive, urging him with her wordless cries and the surging of her hips to press even deeper within her with each thrust, until he wanted to lose himself inside her completely. Her legs came up, wrapping around his waist, and suddenly he was even deeper inside her. It was, abruptly, more than he could take.

"I can't... I'm going to..." he gasped into her ear. Wanting her to feel everything as much as he was, he slipped a hand between them and found her clitoris. That touch elicited another sharp gasp of shocked pleasure from her, and then she was moaning, crying out, as he rolled it between two fingers in time to his intense thrusts, and he felt her contract around him, her back arching under him, and she was giving the most heartfelt groan of pleasure, calling his name, and he couldn't hold it any longer, it was all too much...

The room spun, his head whirled, and pure pleasure took him over for several protracted moments. With a gasp for air, he collapsed on the bed beside Abbey, his heart pounding. Everything spiraled slowly back into place; the covers over his feet that had been pushed away in the heat of the moment; the sweat coating his body; Abbey's arms reaching for him, her body close and warm, comfortable now instead of exciting.

"Wow," Abbey murmured into his shoulder, shifting a little to get more settled into him. Justin couldn't restrain a smile as he pressed a kiss to her rumpled, tangled hair.

"Love you," he said softly. He could already feel the fatigue creeping up on him, stealthy fingers claiming him for sleep; with an effort, he pulled up the sheet to settle it over them.

"I love you too," was the last thing he heard before he fell into unconsciousness.

* * *

He awoke to the sound of singing in the shower. For a moment, disorientation swept him, and then he realized he wasn't in his own room. He glanced around, half-expecting Michaela to jump out from behind a corner and startle him, but she didn't appear to be in evidence. Abbey could be heard in the shower, though, her voice endearingly off-key as she sang some old Rolling Stones song -- "Ruby Tuesday", he thought, though it was a little mangled. Smiling, he pried himself out of bed and went to make it a duet.

When they both emerged from the shower, panting and pleasantly exhausted, but much cleaner, Abbey reached for a towel, handing it to him before taking one for herself. Just as he got it tucked around himself, knocking sounded on the door.

"Who's that?" Abbey said, puzzled, and went to answer the door. Justin followed her, equally curious and prepared to defend her against any pranks the guys might have decided to pull.

Abbey opened the door to reveal one of the hotel staff, holding an envelope in one hand. "I was told Justin Timberlake was here?" the man said, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm Justin Timberlake." Justin reached for the envelope.

"Good." From behind his back, the staffer revealed a camera, which he promptly used to snap several pictures in rapid succession. Startled, Justin and Abbey blinked against the brightness of the flash; then Justin took off after the man, already running down the hall as if his life depended on it. Justin held tight to the edges of his towel, but in the scramble, the man made it to the elevator first and the doors closed before Justin could follow.

"Call security!" Justin yelled back down the hall. Abbey did so, even as other doors along the hall began to open, faces peering out curiously; she leapt on the phone and dialed Randy's number, gasping out the details -- a photographer had gotten in somehow, he was already on his way out of the building. Randy promised to get on it and hung up; Abbey put down the receiver as Justin returned to the room, still clinging to the towel that alone protected his dignity from the world.

"Randy's on it," she reported, wincing at the stormy look on Justin's face. Justin closed the door and came up to her, pulling her close on a gentle sigh. She felt the tension slowly drain from his body as he held her, and, though she'd been unwilling to inflict on him her own anger at the incident, she relaxed into him nonetheless; he felt good, his embrace soothing and comforting.

"I'm sorry about that," Justin said softly after a little while.

Abbey pulled back a bit to look at him. "Why? It's not your fault."

Justin scrubbed a hand over his face. "No, but it's something that you got dragged into, and I didn't want things like that to happen."

"I know," she said, leaning up on her toes to kiss him. "I'm aware of the risks. It's okay."

But the uneasy look in Justin's eyes wasn't entirely gone, and Abbey felt that old fear snake inside her again.

* * *

"So we're doing the press conference today, right?"

Justin barely waited until they'd all arrived in the conference room of the hotel before putting forth the question -- all of them being the group, Johnny, his assistant and a couple of guys from the security team. Johnny nodded, sighing, and reached for the statement that they'd put together yesterday. "I've got the local stations lined up, the papers, and some people from the label. We still don't know how much difference this is going to make, keep in mind. The press is probably going to be even harder into your guys' pockets than ever, so as long as you're aware of that..."

Almost as one, they nodded; JC was looking almost naked without Karyn by his side, as she'd been glued to him since her arrival yesterday, and Justin simply looked determined if not downright angry.

"Now, the photographer was not caught. We still don't know how he got into the hotel, but we're guessing he must have been let in by a junior member of the staff who wasn't aware of all the implications. His uniform was found in a dumpster outside the building; apparently it was owned by someone who used to work here but was fired a few months back. There's not a lot we can do about that, except try to head off what's eventually going to come out. So, Justin," Johnny said, giving the blond singer the full effect of his most serious glare, "what do you want to tell everyone?"

"I have a girlfriend, she's on the tour, and she's an important part of the 'N Sync crew. If they ask, I'll tell them her name, but outside of that, we've only just started going out and we still want to give the relationship a chance to develop."

"Okay. Do you guys want to say anything at this time?" Johnny glanced at the others. "I don't want to slight you, but it's Justin they're going to be focusing on, especially since this picture will probably be out in all the afternoon papers."

JC shook his head. "Not unless they ask." Similar words came from Lance and Joey, and Johnny nodded, making some notes.

"All right. Go get something to eat, be back here at noon and we'll get this thing going."

As he watched the five men shuffle out of the room, Johnny sighed, reached for some of his paperwork. He really wasn't looking forward to this press conference and the mess that would undoubtedly ensue.

* * *

In her office, Kelly smiled broadly at the picture she was seeing. "Don, you're a genius," she said into her phone.

"I know," he replied.

"And you're so humble too. Get this on all the newsgroups, anywhere you can post it. They can have their little press conference, but we're still holding the winning hand."

"Got it, boss-lady."

"And Don? You can come back to New York. Tell them you got fired or something. Can't wait to see you again."

"You got a new project for me?" he asked, and Kelly chuckled at the petulant tone in his voice.

"Maybe. We'll see how things play out here first."

"Gotcha."

Kelly severed the connection and continued to gaze at the picture filling her computer screen. The index finger of one hand rubbed at her upper lip as she pondered all of the chaos this would cause. She couldn't wait to see it.

* * *

"...'We do date and have girlfriends, and we're not going to hide this information out of the fear that our fans might not be able to handle the knowledge. We know that our fans are intelligent and emotionally capable of dealing with the truth.'"

Johnny Wright cleared his throat, glancing down to his left at the row of seated men beside him. The five guys looked alternatively nervous, relieved, or bored; Johnny wasn't sure which reaction was best. He turned his attention back to the statement to read the last paragraph.

"'Finally,'" he read, "'this does not mean that our private lives are now open for all to see. They will remain private. What this does mean is that we no longer intend to carry on practices that are a painful reminder of things we have purposely left behind us. It's another step in the "no strings attached" attitude that we intend to continue to build for the rest of our careers.'"

Johnny nodded, reaching for a glass of water; this was enough of a signal of the statement's conclusion for the various reporters in the room to begin babbling questions and raise their hands. Johnny searched out faces, picked one at random: a young man with a microcassette recorder held high in one hand.

"So is this because of the pictures of Justin and the girl in his hotel room?"

"Partially," Justin said quickly, "but it's also something that's just been a long time coming. We thought it was past time to set the record straight."

"Websites are going crazy with rumors about this girl," said the next reporter, an older woman. "Who is she?"

"She's my girlfriend." Justin fought a warm smile and wasn't entirely successful; flashes went off at even the faintest sight of his famous smile. In the front of the crowd, seated on the floor, Abbey smiled back at him before raising her camera for a picture of her own.

"So does this mystery girlfriend of yours have a name?" someone else asked. Before Justin could answer, other reporters broke in with more questions: "Is she on the tour?" "How long have you been seeing each other?" "How do you expect your fans to take the fact that you're in a sexual relationship? Are you saying that casual sex is okay?"

"I'm not saying anything like that," Justin started hotly. Before he could stand up, JC reached for his friend, giving him a gentle push on the shoulder.

JC proceeded to take up the answering, stepping into the line of fire gamely. "We're not saying that casual sex is okay, not by any stretch of the imagination," he said. "In the context of a serious relationship, there are a lot of factors, and sex is one of them."

"So this is a serious relationship?" The reporters were undeterred, continuing to focus on Justin. "Any wedding bells?"

"What does Britney think about all of this?" asked another reporter.

"What about you, JC? The rumors that you're seeing a fan?"

This wasn't going well at all. Johnny stood up, glowering. "Folks, we've given the statement. That doesn't mean every detail of their private lives is now on public display. This press conference is over."

The reporters not quick enough to take that cue were quickly shown to the doors, some continuing to snap pictures as they left. Justin glanced down the row at his groupmates, his shoulders slumped.

"That went pretty well," Chris said optimistically.

Joey groaned and dropped his head to the table.

* * *

After the press conference, Abbey slipped out of the room with the rest of the reporters, grateful that none of them seemed to notice or recognize her. For a little while, she could maintain some level of anonymity, and she wanted to keep that while she could. Heading to the elevators, she hit the up button, fidgeting with her camera while she waited for a car to arrive. The guys had a radio interview to do, and then soundcheck, so she figured she probably wouldn't see Justin until before the show, or at worst, not privately until afterwards.

That upset her; she wanted to have at least a little private time with him, to talk about the press conference -- he'd been visibly upset, not that this was an unusual state for him lately, but she wanted to comfort him somehow. Later, she promised herself as an elevator arrived.

Entering her room, she discovered that Michaela was there, flopped out on the bed watching television. "Hey," she said, settling down on her own bed.

"Hey yourself, stranger." Michaela rolled to her side and eyed Abbey, now occupied with packing her camera into its case. "Should I just permanently move to Lance's room or what?"

"Oh, Michaela, I'm sorry." A wave of guilt flooded Abbey, and she set down the camera case, turning begging eyes on the stylist. "Really, I don't mean to -- it's just that--"

"It's okay," Michaela said, smiling wryly. "Lance's girlfriend's just gonna get jealous, but she doesn't have anything to worry about."

"I should hope not." Abbey knew from an early chat with Michaela that the woman was firmly opposed to breaking up relationships, even if she liked the guy in question.

"So how are you and Curly?" Michaela asked with a glance in Abbey's direction. The tremulous smile on Abbey's face told it all. "Girlfriend, you're glowing like a lightbulb. That press conference was because of you, wasn't it? You his girlfriend now?"

Abbey chuckled. "Well, I like to think that he's my boyfriend."

"So I guess I am gonna be getting kicked out of the room a lot." Michaela gave an exaggerated sigh, resting her head on her upturned palms again. "That's okay. I don't mind. Lance is a hottie, you know. Maybe I will give that girl of his a run for her money. What do you think? You think I got a chance?"

As Abbey laughed, a knock sounded on the door. Batting her eyelashes and throwing a hitch into her step, Michaela sashayed over to the door to see who it was.

"Oh, hello, loverboy," she cooed, opening the door for Justin. The singer obviously didn't know what to make of her actions, so he nodded at her, blinking in a bemused way.

"Uh, hey. Is Abbey around?"

"In here," Abbey called.

"I'll make myself scarce." Michaela giggled, grabbed her purse from where it sat on the dresser after letting Justin in. "Be down in Suzy's room if you need me."

"Okay." Abbey sat up on her bed, crossing her legs Indian-style as Justin came into the bedroom area. He looked more than a little drained, and Abbey wanted immediately to hold him. She gave into the impulse; standing and putting her arms around him, she felt him relax into her embrace for a long, quiet moment.

"I thought you had a radio interview," she said softly into his chest.

"It got cancelled," he said, sighing; gently, he pulled away from her and sat down on her bed. Abbey followed suit, resting a hand lightly on his thigh.

"We have to talk," he said.

She didn't like the tone of voice he used -- quiet, subdued, but tightly controlled underneath. "Okay, what about?" she asked, cautious.

"This morning." He was looking at the floor, or maybe at the stretch of bedspread between them; Abbey wished she could see his eyes right now. "I mean, the whole thing with the photographer," he clarified, "not the other--"

"Yeah, I understand," Abbey said softly.

He was shaking his head. "Naw, I don't think you do. See, I don't understand why you let him in in the first place, and second of all--"

"Well, Justin, I'm sorry, but I thought he was on the hotel staff," she interrupted, just a little testy.

"Did you even look through the peephole to see who it was?" He looked up at her now, and Abbey regretted her wish; his eyes were tense with anger, barely restrained.

"No, but I thought security would have screened anyone coming up on the floor, so--"

"See, you have to be more careful," he snapped. "That's exactly what I'm talking about."

"Jesus, Justin, give me a break." She yanked back from him and stood up, feeling anger flare. "I've never been on a tour like this, I'm not used to--"

"That is no excuse," Justin shot back, standing up as well. "Didn't you listen to a damn thing security said when we started the tour?"

"Oh, don't you dare get high and mighty on me. I heard every word, and it's all still in my notes. Everyone makes mistakes, Justin, or are you too perfect to err?"

She was close to snarling now, but Justin didn't concede an inch. "I'm not the issue here, so don't change the subject."

"So what is? The fact that I'm trying to compromise our little love-fest or something? God, that's the last thing I want!"

"How do I know?" Justin's voice was suddenly cold. "Maybe you did it all for a story."

Abbey felt the blood freeze in her veins. "If you think that, then -- out. Just get out."

"This isn't over--" he started to say, but she was pushing him towards the door.

"I can't believe you think after all this that I'm some kind of plant or spy or -- _GET OUT_!!" she shouted, grabbing the door handle and yanking it open. "Get the hell out of my room and don't come back!"

"Don't flatter yourself, I'm not even interested anymore," he snarled, and stomped out.

The door swung shut behind him, closing almost soundlessly. As suddenly as it had swept over her, the surge of emotion departed, and Abbey felt herself sink to her knees, the tears she'd held back before rising to the surface now.

Almost unnoticed, the phone began to ring.

* * *

"You're _what_?!"

Abbey tossed the last piece of underwear into her duffel bag and yanked at the zipper, cursing in frustration when it caught on a piece of fabric. "I have to go, or I'll be fired."

"That can't be right, they can't just do that--" Michaela stood in the middle of the room, watching Abbey; her face wore a look of dumfounded shock, the same it had worn since she'd returned to the room to discover the photographer frantically throwing clothes into a duffel bag, gathering up shower items, and pulling everything together in a rush. Abbey had explained briefly that she was being reassigned and that she had to be on a plane in an hour, that she would be fired if she didn't leave on it; but Michaela was having a hard time believing it. Something sounded fishy to her.

"You should just stay, Abster," she said. "I'm sure WEG would hire you on or something, Justin would fight for you--"

"The hell he would," Abbey said, so vehemently that Michaela started.

"You guys fought? Holy shit, Abbey, you can't go now--"

"Watch me." Abbey hauled her bags to the door, paused to look back at the stylist. Her heart crumpled as she realized this might be the last time she'd ever see her temporary roommate, of whom she'd grown genuinely fond. _Not thinking about the others, **not thinking** about the others_ \--

"God, Mickey, I'm gonna miss you."

Michaela came over, hugging Abbey for a long moment. "I'll miss you too, girlfriend."

"Do me a favor?" Abbey whispered. "Tell Justin I'm sorry."

"Sure."

Abbey grabbed her bags again, heaved them out the door, and all but bolted to the elevators. The cab she'd called was already waiting outside the hotel when she got to the front doors; once her bags were in the trunk and she safely ensconced in the back seat, with directions to take her to the airport as quickly as possible, Abbey let out a ragged sigh.

The fight with Justin had been heart-rending; even the thought that he might not trust her was enough to send her close to tears again. Then, just after he'd left, Kelly had called, and her world had fallen apart.

_"You did exactly what I told you not to do, Abbey. Those pictures on the Internet? What were you thinking? The label is very upset with your behavior. You're reassigned as of right now."_

_"But I -- I can't leave now, I--"_

_"Let me clarify," Kelly had said, her voice silken. "If you are not on the plane in one hour, you will be willfully revoking an assignment. That's a breach of contract, Abbey. You may consider yourself terminated if you stay there."_

_"What?" Abbey whispered, feeling herself go numb._

_"You should have read the fine print when you signed your services up with us, Abbey. Really, I expected better from you." There had been a pause; Abbey thought she could almost see the smirk that was undoubtedly all over Kelly's face right now. Then Kelly's voice had gone serious. "Be on that plane or you're out of a job, Eldridge. And trust me, I'll make sure you never get hired again." With that, the line went dead._

What choice did she have? Lose a job, or lose some of the closest friends she'd ever made -- and Justin, who probably hated her guts and never wanted to see her again? Thinking of Justin made her decision simple.

 _So I'm going home again_ , she thought. _That's a good thing, right_?

* * *

Justin became aware of Abbey's absence sometime in the middle of the second song. There was someone taking pictures, but even through the haze of flashing lights, he could tell that it wasn't her. It actually threw him off a step, and while he compensated quickly enough that almost no-one noticed, he finished the song with half the usual energy.

 _Where the hell is she_?!

During the first break, while they were rushing through a change of clothes, Justin grabbed Johnny. "Where the hell's Abbey?"

Johnny shook his head. "Not now, Timberlake."

"Where the hell is she?!" he repeated, frantic. "What happened to her?"

"She had to leave. Go, you're on!"

 _She had to leave?! What the fuck did she have to leave for_?

It wasn't a coincidence that he put more heart into his lines of "I Drive Myself Crazy" than usual, nor that his performance of "This I Promise You" was much more passionate than usual. He felt her loss keenly, as if a part of his heart had been sliced out. Too, he was determined to get to the bottom of it.

He was stalking towards the buses after the show when Michaela caught up with him. "There you are! Justin!" she shouted.

"Not now, Michaela!"

"I know what happened!"

That stopped him in his tracks, even as Lonnie was urging him on. "Come on," Justin yelled, grabbing her arm and ushering her to the 'N Sync bus ahead of him.

Inside, they grabbed seats, waiting for the final head-count; then, all five present and accounted for, the bus took off, heading back to the hotel. Michaela wasted no time in telling Justin everything that had happened that afternoon after his hasty departure from her hotel room.

"She said she had to go or she'd be fired," Michaela finished, her voice puzzled. "I tried to talk her out of it, but she wouldn't listen to me."

"So she's -- back in New York?" he said, an eyebrow raised.

"I guess, probably. And she told me to tell you that she's sorry."

Justin blinked, the impact of that relayed apology hitting him hard. "Oh," he said, softer. "Oh, shit, she's gone, she's gone and I didn't get to--"

"I know, I tried to get her not to go--" Michaela was frantic again, and Joey, who'd been listening to the tale along with the others, gave her a sympathetic squeeze.

"Do you think Kelly--?" Lance angled an eyebrow at Justin, who nodded slowly, fire beginning to burn in his eyes again.

"I do. And I think we're going to have to do something about Kelly once and for all."

* * *

As the plane touched down in New York, Abbey began to gather her things together. She thought she should feel something -- some sense of homecoming, maybe, a sense of relief that it was all over. She hadn't wanted to go on this project to begin with; now she could put it behind her and get on with things. First, she thought, she'd go back to her apartment and sleep in her own bed for at least a week.

Somehow, the sight of Kelly waiting at the gate didn't surprise her in the least. It did make her want to turn around and get back on the plane, regardless of where it was headed. Shifting her carry-on bag, she heaved a sigh and headed towards her boss.

"Abbey, I'm so glad you saw fit to come back," Kelly said as soon as Abbey was close enough to hear. "Let's go get your bags in the limo, and we can head over to the studios. I have some new projects planned that you're really going to love."

Mute, Abbey followed Kelly down the concourse, feeling her stomach sink to somewhere around the level of her knees. She'd thought coming back would be a good thing? What _had_ she been thinking?

* * *

"Ten oh seven a.m."

"Abbey, this is Justin. Hey, um, gimme a call, a'ight? I miss you."

BEEP!

"Message deleted. Next message. One forty two p.m."

"It's me again. Do you ever check this thing? I tried getting your home number, but they said it was disconnected. Abbey, call me. I mean it."

BEEP!

"Message deleted. Next message. Three thirteen p.m."

"Abbey, it's Lance. Call us, we're worried about you. You've got my number, right? Or call Johnny, or the studio in Orlando, and they'll give you the numbers. Come on, call."

BEEP! "Message deleted. No new messages."

The hand -- fingernails exquisitely manicured, elegant rings gleaming on long fingers -- trailed over the phone's console. Then, decisive, they disconnected the line, turned the speaker phone off.

Smiling to herself, Kelly stood up and slipped out of Abbey's office, turning off the light and closing the door behind her.

* * *

Justin sighed, clicked his cell phone off. "She must not ever check her voicemail."

"Maybe she's just not in her office," Joey suggested. "Did you try her cell phone?"

"That was disconnected too." Justin tossed his own phone down on the seat beside him, sighing. Only a few days after the press conference and subsequent disappearance of Abbey, they were on the road somewhere between Buffalo and North Carolina, headed for a concert in Greensboro. He'd fervently wished that somehow the bus would get lost on the way out of Buffalo and head east instead of south; he wanted to be in New York, to find Abbey and get everything sorted out.

Joey shrugged, eyes on the magazine in his hands. "She could have gotten a different cell phone. I mean, I hate to say it, but maybe she doesn't want to talk to you."

"I can't believe that," Justin said, though it had crossed his mind. He'd firmly squelched the thought each time it had arisen, yet he couldn't entirely eliminate it from his mind.

"Nah, I don't buy it either," Lance added, looking up from his laptop. "It doesn't add up. Michaela said she didn't want to go, I think Kelly forced her for some reason."

"Then we have to call her on it." Justin stood up, pacing up the narrow center aisle of the bus, then back down it again.

"But how? We don't have any evidence, and who would we talk to about it?" Lance pointed out.

Justin paced for a few moments before pausing, his eyes on his cellphone again. "I've got an idea."

* * *

Abbey had never felt so restless in New York before. Manhattan was her home, the place to which she'd always returned with a sense of love and loyalty; she'd felt joined to the city by ties of family, of long familiarity and knowledge. But this homecoming was all wrong. Nothing gave her cheer, nothing seemed familiar anymore; her old haunts were alien, her old friends distant at best. Even spending time with her family didn't seem to help; her mother tsked worriedly at her, and Cat's attempts to lighten Abbey's mood ended in vain.

Fortunately, Abbey was very busy, thanks to Kelly; it seemed like she could barely turn around without being given another assignment. _If I suck so bad, why am I doing so much work?_ she wondered more than once. Still, being busy meant she didn't have time to think, which was a good thing in her opinion. Half the time she spent assisting other photographers, hardly doing any real work of her own, which was fine with her even if it did feel like a waste of her talent.

 _I am good. I know I am_! But her reassurances felt hollow to herself, and she wondered if her self-confidence had been completely undermined by Kelly's constant criticism of her work.

Mostly, she spent her time trying not to think about Justin. Their fight, just prior to her leaving, had convinced her that he thought her untrustworthy, that he didn't care for her. Her fear had been borne out by a lack of contact -- though she'd had to get a new cell phone after losing her old one, and she'd had to change her home phone number when calls from the media became overwhelming, both in number and tone. Too, female fans of Justin's -- having somehow discerned who she was -- had taken to calling her at all hours to make threats ranging from the ridiculous to the frightening. Abbey gave up after the second number change, screened all her calls instead; her answering machine was now set to inform callers that she was out right now, so if the caller was a Justin Timberlake fan who wanted her out of the picture, would they please take a number and get in line?

Most of the threats were pretty laughable, along the lines of "Justin loves me, we're going to get married, so leave him alone, you bitch!" Abbey had put the police on speed dial in case of any serious threats, but she wasn't overly worried; it did bother her that the fans had found out her identity and tracked down her phone number in the first place. The news that she was no longer with the tour or Justin would, she figured, probably not matter to them when weighed against the fact that she had actually slept with him.

"It'll pass," her mother tried to reassure her. Abbey hoped she was right.

* * *

"This is Kelly Nivers." Kelly spun in her seat, turning away from the computer screen to look out her window. Her secretary hadn't identified her caller, so Kelly figured whoever it was couldn't be very important.

"Kelly? Justin Timberlake."

Kelly arched an eyebrow, intrigued. "I'm honored. May I ask what this call is about, Mr. Timberlake?"

In his hotel room, Justin took a deep breath before plunging in. "I believe you're the person in charge of assigning photographers to us, among other things?"

"You're right." She sounded amused; Justin didn't like that at all.

"Well, I wanted to -- to inquire as to why you decided to reassign Abbey Eldridge."

"Abbey is needed for other projects," Kelly said smoothly. "I made the decision based on the fact that the quality of her work has been poor. It was a mistake to assign her to such an important tour as yours, and I'm certainly sorry for any trouble she might have caused--"

"She didn't cause any trouble," Justin interrupted. "As a matter of fact, we were all more than happy with her work. We'd like to have her back on the tour, since this new guy isn't working out."

"Not... working out? How so?" Her voice was all innocence.

"His pictures aren't that great. We're not satisfied with the 'quality of his work'." He figured if she was going to use the terminology, he might as well too. "The group was comfortable with Abbey."

Kelly sounded colder now as she said, "Well, that's not your decision. I'm the marketing, and if I think you need a different photographer, you'll get a different photographer."

"Excuse me, but I'm your paycheck," Justin replied, doing his level best to keep his temper even. "Maybe you need a reminder of that. We _do_ make the decisions, and--"

Laughter billowed across the phone line to him. "Oh, honey, I don't think so. You may think you're running the show, but without the business people to call the shots every day, you'd still be singing for your supper in some podunk diner in Florida. Now why don't you stay on the stage where you belong, like a good little pop star, and let me handle what I'm here to do."

"We will get her back." No longer bothering to maintain his cool, Justin spat into the receiver. "Don't think we won't."

"I would love to see you try." Her voice oozed across the line; then she dropped the connection without another word, leaving Justin clutching the receiver on a dead phone line.

He glanced up at Chris, who'd been sitting across the room with a phone plugged into the other outlet, a microcassette recorder held to its earpiece. "Well?"

"Lemme check." Chris hung up the phone and rewound the tape a little, then hit the 'play' button. Kelly's words were clearly audible, if slightly distorted by static.

"Sounds good. Too bad she didn't really give us anything."

"And that this is technically illegal. Do you think they'll be mad because she insulted the talent?" Chris suggested, standing up.

"I don't know if it's enough. We'll probably need more evidence." Justin stood as well, putting the receiver back onto the phone; he began to move restlessly around the room.

"I think we have the evidence that she's a spiteful bitch." Chris was rewinding the tape, fiddling with a wrist-strap for the recorder. "It's gotta be a good start, I mean, if we needed to convince anybody about that."

"So what else do we know?" Justin asked, not pausing in his pacing. "She's part of our marketing team, but for how long? She's doing stuff to try to make us look bad?"

JC came into the room at that point, followed by Lance. "We have something," Lance called before JC turned around to hush him.

"Did you get anything?" JC asked, noticing that their task seemed to be complete.

"Yeah, sort of," Justin began.

"We know she thinks she's, like, God," Chris put in. "Or would that be Goddess?"

Justin rolled his eyes at Chris. "She basically told me to keep my nose out of her business. Sounded like she was hiding something."

"Well, we asked Johnny, and he said that he remembers her from Transcon. I guess she was in marketing there, big protegee of Lou's," JC reported, seating himself on one of the beds. As the others raised eyebrows at each other, he went on. "Johnny said he didn't know what happened to her, because he didn't really like her and wasn't keeping track, but apparently some people lost their jobs when everything went down, and he thinks she might have been one of them."

"So, we thought she lost her job because of us and now she's trying to get her revenge somehow," Lance added.

"That's dumb," Chris muttered. "I mean, geez, if she wanted us to stay with Transcon she could have kept the finances straight in the first place."

"I don't know if that's what she wants, but it doesn't really matter," JC said. "Pretty much what I'm thinking now is that we get her off of handling our marketing, and anyone else's if we can help it. She's coming off as vindictive to me."

Chris nodded, glanced around. "Hey, where's Joey?"

"On the phone with Lindsey," Lance noted; he'd draped himself in one of the chairs and had his head lolling on the chair's high back. "Didn't sound good."

"Mm." Chris gave an empathetic wince, his thoughts flashing on Victoria for a moment before he forcibly returned his attention to the present. "So what do we do about Kelly?"

"Nothing for right now," Justin put in calmly. "We wait until we get to New York. We're supposed to be having a meeting with Jive then. Johnny will be there, he can back us up."

"And we suffer with this crappy photographer until then?" Chris lamented.

"Abbey took a ton of good pictures. They'll all use those." JC noticed Justin's quickly downcast eyes at the mention of Abbey. "But we'll get her back one way or another."

"We better," Lance said. "Michaela's threatening to start sleeping on our floor because she's so lonely."

Justin gave an artistic shudder at that.

* * *

On a Friday afternoon in July, Abbey snapped.

She knew exactly when it happened. She'd been dealing with an artist newly signed to Jive, a rapper who was about to start recording his first album; he'd been courted by the label, who'd thrown obscene amounts of money at him to get him to sign with them. The photo session wasn't his first -- he'd spent some time boasting about how popular he was back home -- and he was using the opportunity to behave like a spoiled brat. Abbey had given up trying to direct him about twenty minutes into the session, but when he started inviting all of his friends, including the scantily-dressed girls, into the shoot, she suddenly lost all her patience.

"That's it," she declared, standing up and beginning to detach the camera from its tripod. "Session's over."

"What? We ain't done--" the rapper started.

"Yeah, we are," she said. "Your afternoon's free now, go enjoy it."

As she began shoving cameras, lenses, and rolls of film into her cases, the manager came up to her. "Look, lady, I don't know who you think you are cancelling a photo session like this, but unless you're Annie Leibowitz--"

Abbey shot him a dark look. "Are you going to make your artist behave? Because I haven't noticed it yet."

"Behave? You wantin' me to lose his personality, make him into some stamped product for you--" The man was getting in her face now, and Abbey dropped the equipment case, standing.

"I don't honestly give a rat's ass," Abbey snarled back at him, "if he's a product or a human being, but if he's going to behave like a child then he's going to be treated as one. I don't have to put up with his behavior, I've worked with children who are more mature than this, and I've seen people making a hell of a lot more money than him behave better. So if you want this session finished--" Her voice lowered, darkening in tone as she pointed at the rapper. "Get -- him -- in -- line."

After a surprisingly docile rapper finished the photo session without argument, Abbey repacked her cases and threw them in the passenger seat of the company car. Her temper had cooled a bit once the artist had settled down, but she was still feeling that undertone of annoyance -- and she was getting tired of not following her instincts.

 _Sometimes you just gotta go with what you feel_ , she mused as she headed back to the offices. It had certainly helped with the photo session today. But her new impulse, as attractive as it seemed, was scaring her a bit.

 _Can I really just do it? I have to, before I lose my nerve. I can't keep functioning like this. I don't have a plan! I can always move back in with Mom and Cat if I don't find something else_.

As she pulled into the parking garage beneath Jive's building, she couldn't help but feel grateful to Justin for unleashing the side of her that did things spontaneously, without thought for the consequences. Before -- before everything that had happened, she amended the thought -- she never would have considered taking this kind of leap.

 _Thank you, wherever you are_.

* * *

"Ah, Abbey. We need to talk."

Kelly looked up from the contract she'd been glancing through, laying it down on her otherwise pristine desk. Abbey had been announced moments before by the secretary; the photographer had a stormy look on her face as she marched into the office.

"Yeah, Kelly, you're right. We do need to talk," Abbey replied. Her voice sounded strange to Kelly -- there was an unusual element of tautness in it, as if she'd been frayed almost to the breaking point.

"Was it the photo session today? The manager called me to apologize. What did you tell him?"

"That his artist was being an immature brat and I was tired of putting up with his nonsense."

Kelly took a deep breath. "Abbey, now you know better than to--"

"Than to what, Kelly?" Abbey planted herself before the desk, glaring at her boss. "Than to talk back, to open my mouth? Because it's better to just let the artist run roughshod over me and completely ruin the session? But wait, I thought I was supposed to dictate everything down to the last detail. Isn't that how you had me doing it with 'N Sync?"

In the moment of silence that followed that outburst, Kelly sat stunned, disbelief on her face. Abbey wouldn't dare speak to her like that--

"Oh, but 'N Sync were different, because you wanted my pictures to be horrible. Well, it's too bad that I got some advice from someone who actually wanted the guys to look decent, because then I started shooting good pictures, and I don't care what you told me, I know that _my_ pictures made magazines all over the place. So don't you dare tell me that my work isn't up to par!" Abbey took a deep breath.

Taking that moment, Kelly plunged in. "Abbey, I was trying to direct you for your own good--"

"Oh, horseshit." Abbey folded her arms, then, thinking better of it, leaned on the back of one of the two chairs across from Kelly's desk. "You wanted the guys to look bad. You're the one who set me up so that there would be some scandalous romance with one of the guys -- I don't think you cared who, but the fact that it was Justin made it all the sweeter for you. And don't think I've missed the fact that the photo credit for that mystery picture from the hotel has been listed as 'Jive Records'." She was jumping to conclusions, she knew, based on gut instincts and suspicions that had teased at her for months now; but the way Kelly's face kept going paler and paler was sufficient enough proof for her.

"All I want to know is one thing -- was this anything personal against me, or were you just using me because I happened to be there?"

Slowly, the smirk began to slip back into place; Kelly raised an eyebrow. "Does it matter? Your accusations are foundless at any rate."

"Maybe they are. Maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe the fact that you screwed my life over, took away the only thing that had really begun to matter to me, and tried to make me lose any self-confidence I had -- maybe that doesn't matter at all. But you know what? Neither do you."

Abbey couldn't restrain a smirk of her own as she stood and walked to the door. Turning in the entryway, she informed Kelly calmly, "Find yourself another photographer to manipulate. I quit."

She heard Kelly's voice after her -- strident, yelling, even something about "you'll never work in this town again" -- but as she strode to her office to collect her things, Abbey felt only laughter welling up inside her, as sweet as nothing she'd felt in a long time.

* * *

"You what? Oh my God." Cat grabbed the receiver, clung to it as if it were a lifeline.

"I need your help, Cat," Justin said patiently. He was praying that Cat was as level-headed as Abbey had made her out to be; he knew he could be potentially getting himself in a lot of trouble, but she was his last hope.

"Yeah, sure, anything! Uh, this is about Abbey, right?"

"Good call." Justin had to smile.

"Hey, you know she quit her job, right?"

He blinked at that. "What? No, I didn't know."

"Haven't you talked to her? She's kinda freaked right now."

"I don't have her number," Justin said, wondering idly how that might sound to the girl. Then again, if Cat was assuming that he was still in touch with Abbey--

"Oh, here, I'll get it for you. She's had to change it a couple times, people keep calling her... um--" Cat's voice took on a nervous tone. "Because girls are like threatening her to stay away from you and stuff."

"Figures." Justin smacked his forehead with one palm, wondering why that hadn't crossed his mind. Of course there would be vindictive fans... No, he hadn't wanted to think about it.

"Okay, here it is." She rattled off the numbers, and he wrote them down on a piece of hotel stationery. "Okay, so anyway, what did you want me to help you with?"

Justin smiled. "I've got this little surprise in mind..."

* * *

Four days after quitting her job, Abbey was awakened by the sound of her doorbell ringing.

She'd slept in for the past few days, and this particular Tuesday wasn't any exception; the sound of the doorbell, unfamiliar at first, jarred her from her slumber. With a mumbled curse, she found her old, plaid robe, tossed it on over the sleep-shirt and boxers, and stumbled to the door to see who it was.

"Delivery," the voice called up on the intercom. Confused, Abbey buzzed him up. Through the peephole, all she could see was bright, riotous color when his footsteps announced his arrival.

 _Flowers_..?

Bemused, she let the deliveryman in; he handed her an enormous bouquet of bright tropical flowers, their hues rich and pure enough to have come straight from a painter's palette. Abbey thanked him, nudged the door closed, and carefully hauled the flowers -- set in a wide porcelain vase -- to her kitchen table.

There, among the blooms, she discovered a card. Ah, my mystery admirer reveals himself. Or herself, gotta be politically correct. But the card bore no name.

> _Be ready at 7:00. A limousine will be waiting downstairs. An evening of music and adventure awaits._

_That's it_? Abbey sighed, tossed the card in the trash, and went back to bed.

The flowers had her puzzled, kept her mind from lapsing into true slumber. Who could have sent the flowers to her? Maybe the rapper, in apology for his behavior; no, she thought, he wouldn't be that considerate. His manager, maybe, but no way she was going out on 'a night of music and adventure' with that sleazeball. And Justin-- _no_ , she amended promptly, _he doesn't want to see me anymore_.

Even though today was--

The thought hit her out of the blue; she grabbed her watch from the bedside stand and inspected the date display. Oh God, it was July 25th, their first day back in New York, and the first of their sold-out shows at Madison Square Garden was tonight.

Abbey forced her breathing to calm down, attempting to restore a modicum of rationality to her suddenly racing pulse. _It can't be Justin, it's just a coincidence, Kelly's probably trying to court me back to Jive or something_.

Unable to sleep now, she got up, pulled some clothes on, and went to putter at her email. She'd recently purchased a computer and an online account with some of the money from the 'N Sync gig, and it amused her to browse around the Web, finding the variety of information to be had there.

She wasn't too surprised to see Cat online as well; Cat had convinced her to get an instant-message program so that they could talk online as well as off, and the program also showed when Cat was online or off. Even as she noticed that, an instant message window popped up.

> kitty281: hey sis!
> 
> aaeldridge: What's up?
> 
> kitty281: you gotta check this out, it's really funny.
> 
> aaeldridge: What, another hate site?
> 
> kitty281: yeah... this one will make you laugh i promise

Abbey chuckled as she clicked on the link Cat provided. Cat and her friends seemed to run across at least one new site devoted to Abbey's destruction on a daily basis, and each one seemed more ridiculous than the rest. Cat was on target again with this one, which proclaimed Abbey to be the spawn of Satan; that she'd lured Justin into sin with her fake breasts and "so-called innocent" personality, and that the site's proprietors would rather see Justin with Britney Spears than with Abbey (although, they added, Justin would of course eventually discover the existence of the site's owners and become their willing slave for the rest of his life).

> aaeldridge: Very funny, kitten.
> 
> kitty281: i thought so...  
> kitty281: guess i can't talk you into going to the show tonight?

Abbey sighed. Over the past few days, Cat had been obsessive about begging Abbey to go to the Madison Square Garden show. She and her friends had pretty decent seats, purchased by her mother for a donation to a charity group, and Cat seemed to think that Abbey was interested.

> aaeldridge: Sorry, I can't make it.
> 
> kitty281: why not?

A flash of inspiration hit Abbey, who was sorely tired of Cat bugging her about this.

> aaeldridge: I have plans.
> 
> kitty281: youre kidding, really? with who?
> 
> aaeldridge: Not sure yet, I have a blind date.
> 
> kitty281: ahh, that's cool... i mean it sucks that you're not going but i'm glad you're going out, you have to tell me all about it.

And that, Abbey thought, was that. She finished checking her email, said a farewell to Cat, and logged off; then, picking up the newspaper, she went to lay on her bed and look at the job section.

By six-thirty that evening she was thoroughly bored. She'd done everything she needed to -- she'd even organized her books, a project that she'd been delaying for months -- and she wasn't even remotely tired. Glancing at the flowers, their warm scent still rich in the still air of the apartment, she pondered her mysterious invitation again.

 _Well, what the hell_. Whoever it was knew her, knew that the note would intrigue her; besides, she'd taken a self-defense class and she'd have her cell phone and mace with her in case anything went wrong. Shoving up from the couch, she turned off the television and went to take a shower.

When the limousine pulled up in front of Madison Square Garden, Abbey thought about killing someone. She was most definitely not amused, especially since there were lots of girls screaming at the mere sight of the limo. The driver came around to open the door; Abbey smiled at him as he helped her out, and he tipped his hat politely at her. As the disappointed crowd dispersed, Abbey headed into the Garden.

She'd found an envelope on the seat when she'd first climbed into the limo; curious, she'd opened it before the driver had even reached his seat, and then she'd cursed to see the single ticket for tonight's 'N Sync concert as well as a backstage pass. _Heck, I still have mine from the tour, I don't need this... but someone's got a lot of nerve, and I don't know if I want to know who_.

Once she found her seat -- in the first row, surrounded by a gaggle of teenage girls who openly stared at her -- she sat down to ponder who might have brought this about. She immediately ruled out Justin, as she was positive that he had no desire to see her again. Chris, maybe, or Lance; either one was a possibility, as she'd been close to both, and she figured Lance particularly for the type to pull off this kind of scheme. While she had also enjoyed hanging out with Joey and JC, she doubted that they would have come up with this -- although she couldn't rule out the possibility of them helping out somehow.

 _That's fine. I'll sit here, I'll wait until the concert is over, and I'll leave. None of us needs to be tormented about this anymore_.

She endured the stares of the girls around her through the opening acts, was glad when 'N Sync's set started, as it diverted their attention from her. Her resolve to sit in her seat and stay calm and quiet lasted until Justin's first approach to the front of the stage during the opening song. Then she lost it.

Justin's eyes went wider than she'd have ever thought possible; for a moment, she was afraid he might lose track of where he was. An incredulous smile split his face, and then he was off, dancing the next set of moves with twice the energy of before. Abbey's hands were on her face, trying to dam the tears whose flow had already begun without her permission.

 _He's happy to see me he doesn't hate me he didn't know I was here or maybe he did it doesn't matter he's happy to see me_ \--

After the show, even before the final pounding moments of "Bye, Bye, Bye" had ended the evening's festivities, Abbey was running to the stage door. She knew where it was, having been to the Garden before for photo shoots; fumbling with her pass, she flashed it to the guards and made her way inside.

"Abbey!" Someone was yelling her name; she paused long enough to see Joey's brother, Steve, wading through the crowd of people jamming the backstage corridors.

"Steve," she shouted, waiting for him to reach her.

"Come on, this way." He guided her through the maze to the dressing rooms, Abbey's heart jackhammering in her chest all the while. Finally, Steve pushed open a nondescript door bearing only a piece of paper, photocopied with the group's name.

Abbey's heart leapt into her throat, and for a moment, she faltered at the door, feeling the weight of the moment press in on her all at once. Then Steve's hand was on her back, pushing her through the door, and she heard her name cried aloud by many voices -- but only one registered in her ears, the hoarse voice that she'd heard only in her dreams for weeks.

She opened her arms just in time for Justin to stumble into her embrace, squeezing her tightly to him as he pressed his face to her shoulder. Gripping handfuls of his shirt, she held on and tried not to cry, but his body was there, real, and he was holding her like he never wanted to let her go.

"Oh God, you came, I can't believe you came..."

"I almost didn't," she whispered, forcefully, breathing against his ear. "I didn't know if it was real... I thought you hated me--"

"God, no, Abbey, no, why would you think that?" He pulled back long enough to look at her, truly see her, as he'd been afraid he'd never be able to again. Then he kissed her, heedless of the others' presence -- until their cheers and whoops of laughter made Abbey pull away, blushing.

She accepted hugs of greeting from the others, then, including a light punch on the shoulder from Joey and a kiss on the cheek from Lance. Last was Johnny, who seemed as relieved as the other guys that she'd come.

"I hear you're out of a job," Johnny said, his demeanor that of a disappointed parent.

"Yeah, I -- I quit Jive. Kelly was getting to be impossible to work for. Haven't found anything else, though." She realized she was babbling; Justin squeezed her hand, and she glanced at him, momentarily confused at the eager look on his face.

"Well, I'm not really as sorry to hear that as I'd like to be," Johnny went on. Abbey turned her attention back to him, eyebrows narrowing in confusion. "See, your talent was just being wasted under her. I'd like to offer you a contract with WEG. It'd be much more beneficial to you, of course -- better pay, an apartment in Orlando; but of course I'd want you to look over the offer before making any kind of final decision."

The tears blurring Abbey's eyes made Johnny double in her vision; she wiped them away with the back of a hand, blinking, disbelieving, at him. "You're kidding."

"No, I'm very serious. Please think about it, Abbey. We don't want to see your talent wasted anymore."

"There is one condition," Justin added.

"What's that?" She turned wide eyes on him, clearly stunned now by this overload of information.

"You have to come back on tour with us and take better pictures. That guy's making us look terrible!"

"Really?" Abbey blinked back more stinging tears. "Y-you want me back?"

"Duh!" Chris put in.

"Please." Justin's voice was sincere, the love in his eyes plain as day.

Timidly, still stunned and a bit overwhelmed, Abbey nodded. With a whoop, Justin grabbed her up in his arms, holding her above him. She put her arms around his neck, laughing and holding on for dear life, while the others high-fived each other and cheered and she spun around in the safe haven of his arms.

A few moments later, Justin gently settled her back on her feet. His arms slid around her waist, firmly pressing her body close to his. "I'm glad you're coming back," he murmured.

"Me too," she said, her dark eyes meeting his. She swallowed at seeing the deep emotion shining in his sapphire gaze. "But... I thought you didn't want me back. I never heard from you..."

"Are you kidding? I called like twice, three times a day."

Abbey's eyes narrowed. "I never got... wait, what number did you call?"

"Your office number," he replied, concern in his eyes. "I kept leaving messages on your voicemail. You didn't get them?"

"No, I didn't." Abbey swore softly. "The only person who had my password for that -- oh, crap. Kelly. She programmed it for me."

"Shit," Justin said.

"Ugh, I can't believe--!" With a sigh, Abbey forced herself to calm down. "It doesn't matter now. I don't work there anymore, it doesn't matter."

"I'm sorry." Justin pulled her into a gentle hug. Abbey leaned into him, noticing absently that the others had snuck off, presumably to the hotel and an after-party.

"Don't be," she said, soft-voiced. "It's not your fault."

"Well, I'm sorry she made your life so miserable."

"I'm just annoyed at myself for trusting her for so long." Abbey shook her head before looking up at him again. "But you know what?"

"What?" he asked, brushing a few stray locks of hair back from her face.

"It's all over, and I'm happy now. And I have you to thank for that."

"Oh. You're welcome," Justin said.

Still smiling, she leaned up on her toes to press a kiss to his mouth, to the lips that she'd been missing for weeks. She could feel the unhappiness that had engulfed her for so long begin to spiral away, dissolving in a delicious burst of happiness.

"Hey, come on you guys, we're gonna be late!" Chris stuck his head back into the room to yell at them.

Laughing, Justin took Abbey's hand, and together they chased Chris out of the room and down the hall.


End file.
